Masked King of Temra
by lightofeldar
Summary: Rohan is afraid of the reactions from his friends if he tells them of his parentage. New problems come up with the Ancient Scroll, and he must complete his destiny with his secrets intact.
1. To Exile

Chapter One: To Exile 

It was a bright cloudless morning the day King Conchobar and the five Mystic Knights forced the former Queen of Temra to the docks. The entire kingdom of Kells had slept well for the first time in a decade with Maeve safely guarded in the castle dungeons. Draganta had finally fulfilled his destiny and saved their lands from her terrors. All the knights were savoring the moment, getting in their last say before pushing the banished queen out to sea. Everyone but Draganta, that is. He was behind all the others standing next to the King. His sword was drawn as he silently watched the woman in front of him.

"Come on, you witch, walk faster!" Angus said pushing the bound Maeve towards the ships.

"Be careful, Angus!" Garrett warned, "There is no use hurting her to the point where she cannot sail out of here."

Sheepishly, Angus replied, "Sorry, just a little anxious to finally get rid of her, I guess..."

"No use apologizing, Angus," interrupted Princess Deirdre, "we all feel that way. The sooner she goes, the better!"

"My aren't we quick to get rid of me, Princess. One would think that someone of your..._breeding_...would have better manners." Maeve glared.

Ivar bristled. "Keep your mouth shut, woman! Or you might find that we did not pack enough supplies for your journey, if you get my meaning..."

Through all the threats and taunts from the four knights, Maeve just silently smirked. She knew she was defeated, but she also knew of the hard future facing the island. She also had the knowledge of the delicate past of one knight, her biological son...Rohan. His journey was far from over if the ancient scroll was any indication.

Make no mistake, she has no love for her heir. She abandoned him long ago when briefed of his destiny to unite the island with peace. In desperation, she left him in a small village in Kells when he was only a small boy, hoping he would believe that a woman there had no love for him and abandoned him. It was her wish that he be so full of hate, that he would despise the kingdom of Kells. And when he fulfilled his destiny, he would unite the isle in favor of Temra. He was always just a means to an end.

Maeve massaged her throbbing temple. If it weren't for that blasted druid Cathbad, her plan would have succeeded. But no, the old coot had to adopt him as his apprentice, introducing him to a somewhat stable lifestyle in the castle. There he interacted with the King and his snooty little daughter, creating _relationships _with her two enemies. By Dagda, the thought made her physical ill.

She glanced at Rohan, standing proudly by King Conchobar. She had to admit, even as her enemy, Draganta would have made a fine prince. Fiercely loyal, strong, brave...it really was a shame it did not work out to her favor.

"What, no parting words from you, _Draganta?"_ she snarled.

"You don't deserve any words from me, Maeve." Rohan said stoically. Outside, he appeared the noble warrior. But inside, he was a wreck. This woman was his mother. His _mother!_ She knew it for years, but let him suffer. She abandoned him to the unforgiving winters of homelessness, the shame of being an orphan. All the times in Kells castle when he wished he were royalty like Princess Deirdre, and he finds out he was a prince this whole time. He strived to be accepted as a warrior, to prove himself worthy of something more than a street-rat-made-druid's-apprentice.

When he finally found his place as Draganta, Warrior and Savior of Kells, she revealed his lineage. The Savior of Kells was born by this devil, and this made him the enemy of his beloved country. Maeve deserves more than exile, more than death. Yet, she was still his mother. The thought weighs heavily on him as he sees her final moment on the island. He prays that she will keep her mouth shut and not reveal this treachery in her final hours. He could not take the shame of his King or his friends knowing the truth.

Maeve stepped into the boat prepared for her and patiently stood still as Garrett cut the bonds around her wrists. Ivar and a few of the soldiers finished loading the boat with food and other supplies for her journey.

King Conchobar turned to Rohan and whispered in his ear, "The fact that Maeve is taking this so well does not sit well with me. I half expected her to fight to the very end."

"Yes, your majesty," he whispered back, "but she knows when she has been defeated. She will give us no more trouble as soon as we cast her off."

Conchobar sighed, "I still have a feeling that she is hiding some important information, something that Kells needs to know. This does not bode well, Rohan."

"Send the others back to prepare for the victory celebration as soon as she is gone, my Lord, I wish to speak to you about such things as these." he requested.

The King looked over his knight. He remembered the days when he was a little boy, skipping off from his apprentice duties and running through the castle with wooden sword in hand. He had grown into a fine leader. A leader of men. He would have made a fine son. A fine husband for his Deirdre, should she every wish it. But alas, he was still not royalty or nobility, no matter how he has proven himself. And Deirdre was still betrothed to Garrett. Perhaps he should make him an advisor. He has become wise beyond his years these past few months. He wondered what it was that changed in him. Most likely his destiny bearing down on him, he mussed. "Very well, we shall talk then."

"Any last words, Maeve, before facing the open seas?" Deirdre asked.

Ignoring the Princess, Maeve turned to her son. "Your journey to save this puny kingdom of yours doesn't stop with me, _boy_. I trust you know the truth when you hear it. Mark my words, your existence will end as lonely and pathetic as it began!"

The knights readied themselves to defend their friend, when Rohan ran to the boat and stared down at the woman who had been the cause of such loneliness. Staring daggers down at her, he silently unwound the rope securing it to the dock and threw it into her vessel. "It's is time for you to leave...again." He whispered acidly.

"Queen Maeve, Tyrant of Temra, I hereby banish you from this island, from both the kingdoms of Kells and Temra, forever." King Conchobar stated. He barely got it out before the other four knights fiercely pushed her boat toward the open water in disgust.

"Don't let her get to you Rohan, she's gone now." Angus said, patting him on the back.

Yes, he thought bitterly watching her disappear. She's gone, but her secrets...remain.

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Author's Note: This will be a long ongoing story. Please review. I'm a new author, and could use all the insight I can get! 


	2. The Secrets We Keep

Chapter Two: The Secrets We Keep 

"Well," Angus said, straightening his leather vest, "now that that's over. I'm in the mood for a party. Anyone care to join me?"

Deirdre narrowed her gaze at him, "Are you saying that you are willing to _help_ with the preparation of the victory celebration?"

"Well, if that involves overseeing the catering of said event, then, yes." he smiled.

She smiled pointing her finger at him. "I knew it. I _knew _you couldn't think about anything but your stomach!"

"Do they always argue like this?" Garrett whispered to Ivar.

"Always, except, Rohan usually is laughing along with them. He has been unusually quiet today. I would have thought that today of all days he would be laughing and smiling. He seems...distracted, I think."

"Either that, or it's indigestion." Garrett snickered.

"With the way Angus eats, I wouldn't doubt it." Deirdre taunted.

"Alright, the lot of you up to the castle. I expect the best decorations, food, and entertainment to be organized for tonight's celebration." said Conchobar. "And Deirdre, there is something I left for you in your chambers. A pre-celebration gift. Why don't you go up and take a look?"

"You heard him boys, let's go!" she commanded.

"Boys?!?!" outraged Angus. "How does she get away with these slanderous comments all the time? Hey, Rohan. Rohan! You coming? You look like you were zoning out there for a second."

Startled from his thoughts, Rohan pasted on a fake smile. He really didn't feel like celebrating.

"You go ahead. The King said there was something he wished to speak to me about. I'll meet you there."

Deirdre looked thoughtfully at Rohan. Something wasn't right. He should be happy that his destiny was fulfilled. Peace has come to Kells. Was there something on his mind? "Are you alright, Rohan? Is something wrong?"

Looking down at Deirdre, he felt terrible for lying to her. He never ever wanted to hurt her with his past. He had to do something about it. He _was_ planning to tell her how he felt about her when this war was over. But now that he knew the truth about his mother, he just couldn't. She would hate him. And deep down, he knew that his heart wouldn't be able to bear it.

"There are just a couple of loose ends to tie up. I can take care of it. You go on ahead. Everything will be fine, Deirdre, I promise."

"Go on, daughter, we will be there shortly." Conchobar reasoned.

Once Deirdre and the others were a safe distance away from overhearing them, Conchobar turned to Rohan. "Now then. What was it you wanted to talk about. Maeve is gone. Although I still feel on my guard against invasion, I feel your quest has come to an end. What is on your mind?"

Rohan turned to look at the sea. "The war is over, my King, but there is still work to be done. Maeve is hiding something. I suggest I take a look around her castle. If anything will gives us any useful information, that will. She... She knew. She knew about my birthmark and the prophesy. I believe the other half of the ancient scroll was in her possession. Also, we need to get Ivar's chalice back to his kingdom. I thought it would make a nice surprise to hand it over to him tonight at the feast. Let him toast to peace with it. It would bring him great joy to see it put to use in a good way for once, knowing that Mider has been using it all this time. And speaking of Mider, I need to bargain with him. And talk to Nemain, as well as sweep the castle for any remaining magic objects that need to be destroyed. And then there's..."

"Now hold on, hold on..." interrupted the king, "that is a lot to handle for one person. Don't you think you should do all this tomorrow with the help of the other Mystic Knights? You should enjoy this day of peace. Although, talking with Mider and Nemain is of the upmost importance. Perhaps you should just go talk to them and call it a day. No use overworking yourself. You wouldn't be able to enjoy the celebrations tonight if you did. They are in _your_ honor, after all."

"With all due respect, your highness, I wouldn't be able to enjoy any party knowing that there are things that have not been taken care of. And these celebrations are not to be in my honor but for all of Kells. I couldn't have fought alone. The Mystic Knights couldn't fight alone. The honor goes to all, not some orphaned boy left to rot in the street..."

"Now I command you to stop this talk at once, Rohan!" Conchobar yelled. He then put his hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at him.

"You are never, _ever_, to come down on yourself this way ever again. Do you hear me? By Dagda, you have worked hard to defend this country. You are a brave and courageous person. Just because of the unfortunate situation of your birth..." Rohan snorted, "Look Rohan, I'd have you as my _son_ if it were in my power. Just because of someone's misguided actions to leave you to your fate does _not _make you less of a person. Now I forbid you to ever think so lowly of yourself. You are a better man than I at times. And I am blessed to have you watch over my kingdom and my family. You know Deirdre is all I have left. If something had ever happened to her... Thank you. Thank you for watching over her."

"As you wish, my King. I will not speak of it again."

Both men walked toward the main road in silence. Rohan thinking of what King Conchobar just said, and the King thinking of the young man beside him. When they reached the top of the hill and mounted their horses, Conchobar turned to him.

"If you wish to search her castle today, then do so. You are right to want to settle these things before doing anything else. Make sure you report to Cathbad's chambers before the celebration tonight. I had the tailors make a new tunic for you tonight. No more armor, Rohan. Not tonight. Tonight we toast peace."

With that, the King of Kells rode off to his personal guards up the road to escort him back to the castle, leaving Rohan to his thoughts. Oh, how he would hate to disappoint this King who thought so much of him. Digging his heels into his horse he galloped off to Temra at full speed. He had to make sure his secret would die with him.

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Author's Note: Once again, I ask that you please review. The upcoming chapters may be hard to understand, so any feedback on fixing them is quite welcome! 


	3. Preparing for the Party

**Chapter Three: Preparing for the Party**

"What do you think, Princess. Is this too much?"

Deirdre turned to see what Ivar had been working on. "No, I like it! It makes it look really colorful and inviting! How are Garrett and Angus coming along with all those tables for the feast?"

"By the looks of things, it seems they are almost done." said Ivar.

Deirdre walked up the steps to the castle wall to look down on the courtyard. Long wooden tables covered in colorful fabrics were stretched across the floor and flags and banners displaying the Kells insignia hung from the castle walls. A small stage for musicians was set in the far corner near the entrance to the castle, and a space before it was open for dancers. Deirdre nodded, congratulating herself on a job well done. Her father would be very pleased. Still...

"Angus, it seems to be missing something, don't you think?" she yelled down at him.

"Yea," he yelled rubbing his belly, "it's missing all the food!"

Laughing at the two, Garrett came out with some lanterns in his arms. "I think I know what it's missing, Princess, more lights! No way to dance later in the night without seeing anything!"

"Good idea." Agreed Ivar. "Help me place these around the courtyard, and then we can bring the candles for the tables. We have it from here, Princess. Didn't your father mention a present waiting for you?"

"Oh yes! I had almost forgotten. And don't forget," she said pointing at the three of them, "Father has tunics made for all of you in Cathbad's chambers. Remember to change for the feast."

Walking into the castle, she saw her father in the throne room, finishing up the decorations for the private feast for the rest of the court and the Mystic Knights. They would dine quietly inside before joining the people in the courtyard for the rest of the celebration.

"Ah. Deirdre! Just the girl I was hoping to run into. You haven't seen your gift yet, have you?" At her nod he ushered her toward her chambers. "Then come! Let's go see what your loving father has for you."

Deirdre just smiled as her father accompanied her to her room. Being an only child, and a daughter at that, her father tended to spoil her. But she never took advantage of that, she knew she couldn't have his attention all the time. Kells and Temra had been at each other's throats as long as she could remember. She learned early on as a child that he had to sacrifice much of his time to keep the peace.

Opening the door, she saw a small chest in front of her bed. It was ornately carved and had a celtic knot weave around the entire trunk.

"Now what is this? It's beautiful, Father! Thank you!"

"No, no, dear girl. Open it! It's what's on the inside."

Slowly, she pulled on the silver handle. She gasped at the contents. Inside were some of the most gorgeous dresses, shoes, and capes that she had ever seen. By the looks of it, they were made of very costly fabric, with hand embroidered details about the bodices.

"Oh, Father!" she cried. "They are wonderful! However did you...?"

"They were your mother's, Deirdre. You have become a fine young woman. And it's high time that I passed them on to you. They are yours now. Please take good care of them."

"I will, oh I will! Thank you so much!" She said, throwing her arms around him and encasing him in a loving embrace. Noticing her father sniffling, she pulled back to look at him.

"Father, are you crying?"

Wiping his eyes, he said, "Oh, yes. I suppose I am. It's just...that if your mother could see you now...see how beautiful and brave and...and smart you are. She...she would be so very proud of you, as I am." He smiled a sad smile before straightening up and saying, "Now, what _am_ I doing?! We should not be crying! This is a happy occasion! Let me leave you to pick out a dress for tonight. Which one do you think you will wear?" he asked as Deirdre carefully laid each item on her bed.

She looked them over. Some, were a bit too fancy, a bit too...formal, for a party. And there were so many colors to choose from. One in particular caught her eye, though.

"This one!" she said as she held up a gown of a deep burgundy, soft to the touch with long sleeves. The only details were small celtic symbols stitched around the hem and around the sleeves. The neckline did not plunge too low, but just enough to show-off some jewelry.

"Wonderful choice! Your mother wore that dress when we first met. I dare-say I will have to tell Prince Garrett repeatedly to stop staring at you tonight!" he chuckled.

Deirdre dropped her head and sighed, "About by betrothal, Father...I don't want..."

"I know." he interrupted. "But perhaps we can work something out, now that we are not threatened with war."

"Thank you, Father." she smiled.

"Your welcome. Now get dressed. I've some final details to attend to before the celebration begins."

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Note: Thank you to those that reviewed! I appreciate it very much! 


	4. Convincing with Conversations

**Chapter Four: Convincing with Conversations**

Rohan never realized how shabby Temra seemed until this very moment when he was riding up toward the castle. Many of its people were poor, and striving to make a living. Thank goodness Maeve was gone, for their sakes. She spent so much of her time trying to conquer Kells that she hardly paid attention to her own kingdom's needs. No doubt the castle itself would be more extravagant than anything these people had ever seen before in their lifetime.

Hearing arguing up ahead, he slowed his horse and cautiously approached. Hundreds of Temra soldiers were shouting and arguing while trying to get into the castle. There seemed to be some sort of invisible barrier around the castle, most likely magic. No one could enter. This was not good.

"Soldiers of Temra!" Rohan yelled, "What is happening here?"

The mob became silent, staring at Draganta in fear. Many stories have been told of "the man that could not be defeated." Rumor had it that some sort of dark magic was behind his success. One brave man stumbled forward.

"My Lord, Draganta! Please have mercy on this poor, defeated country! We are truly happy to be Kellsmen now, but are still looking for compensation. We have all come here to raid Maeve's castle, but none can enter. A dark magic is keeping all of us out! We fear that Lord Mider has convinced Numain to keep the kingdom as her own. Will you not help us? Help us as you have King Conchobar!"

Rohan dismounted his horse to stand before the crowd. They were a pitiful bunch, helpless and in need. They were his people now. Whether as a knight of Kells or a prince of Temra. The thought made him pause. If he accepted his family, he could be a king. When did this happen? Rohan King of Temra...his heart suddenly felt like lead sinking into his stomach. He never wanted to be king, yet the thought filled him with a terrible purpose. Shaking his head to clear it, he refocused on the problem at hand. Either way, it was his duty to help these people now.

"I have come not to raid the castle, but to find answers. Maeve has information here that I must find, information about this island. Nemain will not rule this country as long as I still draw breath. This, I swear! The Moorish Prince's chalice is to be returned to him, and the riches Maeve stole from her people returned. This castle shall become a safe-haven for its people. A place no longer for the rich, but for all in need. It is time to wash the stench of Maeve's evil from this island!"

With that said, he marched toward the entryway. The mob behind was cheering. Someone finally understands them! He wasn't going to take any gold for himself, he said, but give it to them! Who was this man? Surely if all the people of Kells, including its King, were like this man, life will be much better than it ever had been before. Ignoring the shouts behind him, Rohan called upon his armor and entered the castle. His armor allowed him to pass through the magic barrier unharmed. It was time to have a little chat with Nemain and Mider.

The castle was silent. A graveyard was not as silent as this empty fortress. Drawing his sword, Rohan slowly made his way to the throne room. Hearing muffled voices, he knew he was headed in the right direction.

"Ah, hear comes the _valiant_ knight, now!" crowed Mider standing on the edge of a table next to Nemain.

"Well then, Mider." she said, turning to face the mystic knight. "It seems as though the time for a truce has finally arrived. Welcome home, Prince of Temra."

"Enough of your taunting, Nemain. I claim no tainted throne." Rohan snarled. He really hated those two. Mider had been half the reason Maeve was so bloodthirsty. And Nemain, well. Sometimes indifference was a worse crime than choosing sides.

"You may want to change your mind, Draganta. Here." she said, offering him a roll of parchment. "Come sit as we discuss the future of this island. You will want to read this." Taking a tentative step forward, Rohan eyed the pair suspiciously. "How do I know this is not a trap?"

Nemain rolled her eyes. "Because if I wanted the island, I would have sided with Maeve to destroy the Mystic Knights before turning against her. Use your head, boy! You destroy your biggest threat first in war. Now come, we both know Mider wants Tir na Nog, not Temra. Sheathe your sword and sit."

Rohan did as she asked without taking his eyes off either of them. Her words rang true, but he still did not trust either of them.

"Alright. Here's the deal. Mider leaves the chalice if you go to the treasury and retrieve one that Maeve has hidden. According to Mider, it will amplify his powers even more than his current dwelling. I then take Mider and this chalice back to my new kingdom across the sea."

Rohan looked back in forth between the two conspirators. It all seemed too simple. There had to be a catch. Something had been left unsaid. To say so, might insult them. No way he was going to upset them if they really _were_ willing to leave the island voluntarily. He decided to steer around this until his other questions had been answered.

"And the magic in this castle.." "Will be dissolved as soon as we leave." interrupted Mider.

"And the treasury..." "Will be left to you to deal out as you see fit, minus the ancient chalice, of course." Nemain replied.

"Kells and Temra will never again be bothered by either you two, or Maeve." Rohan asked.

"We will not convince, help, or have contact with Maeve, or any other Tyrant. We leave, and we never return. It's as simple as that." Crooned Mider, shifting his eyes back to Nemain. Rohan felt that now would be the time to bring up his doubts. "What's the catch, Nemain. What are you not telling me?"

"See?" she told Mider. "I told you he was no fool. He has grown to be very wise. Much wiser than his mother..." Mider snorted. "Like _that_ would take much effort..."

Nemain glared at the small man. He was always making trouble by opening his mouth. That would be the first thing to change once they left the country. He would be in so much debt to her for all this that his life would belong to her. Smirking, she gestured to the scroll in Rohan's hands.

"That in your hands is the other half of the ancient scroll of Draganta. You must go down to the treasury to retrieve the chalice because of the enchantments placed on it. You have Maeve's blood flowing through you, the wards will let you pass unharmed. But the deal is off if you do not do one more thing."

"And what, pray tell, is that?" asked Rohan.

"You finnish your quest. You must swear to follow the destiny laid out by the ancient scroll. You will make an oath to do this, or we stay here for a long, long, _long_ time!"

Rohan unrolled the scroll and read through it. His eyes widened in shock. "You can't be serious..." he whispered.

Mider just smirked. "Life is a bundle of joy, isn't it Draganta?"

* * *

Note: Sorry for the delay! I work for a High School Marching Band as a percussion tech., and we went to Nationals in Indianapolis this weekend. We won! OMG! The percussion section had their picture taken with myself, the drumline tech., and Head Percussion Director. It should be up on vicfirth's website soon. So as you can see, I wasn't sitting on my butt doing nothing!!! 


	5. Giving my Life for Moments Such as These

**Chapter Five: Giving my Life for Moments Such as These**

Rohan rode back toward Kells as the sun was setting. With the treasury having been divided among the townsfolk, and chalice and scroll safely stowed in his saddle bag, he made his way toward the castle of Kells and a celebration already underway. He knew he had no choice, so he made his oath and watched Nemain and Mider sail away. Now he had to find a way to complete his destiny without anyone knowing of his parentage. His emotions were on overload. He had only eight hours left before he had to decide how he was going to do this. And on top of that, he had to plan during the victory celebration. Oh, how heart broken everyone would be to find that peace was not ensured yet. Talk about pressure.

Rohan barely even heard the loud music from the courtyard as he stumbled up the back entrance to Cathbad's chambers to change. Putting on the fine tailored slacks and tunic, he fixed his wind-tossed hair and took a deep breath. He must not tell anyone of the news until all the townsfolk had returned to their homes for the night. This must be done carefully so that a panic would not set in with the people. Who was he to upset the celebration? Peace had been unknown in this land for a decade. To destroy the people's reprieve now would be as cruel as attacking the kingdom himself. One thing was not doubted in his mind. He had wished, not for the first time in his life, that he had never been born.

Dinner was already underway when Rohan entered the throne room.

"There you are!" Exclaimed Cathbad. "We were wondering what took you so long at the castle!"

"The castle?" asked Angus.

"Yes," said the king, "I had Rohan go to Maeve's castle to tie up some loose ends for me today before the celebration. Tell me, what _did_ take you so long?"

Rohan took his place next to Garrett and tried not to stare at the beautiful creature sitting across from him next to her father's side. "Well, Maeve had been hoarding much treasure from her people. So it took quite a while to distribute it out."

"You did WHAT?!?" shouted Angus. "You found a room full of gold, silver and jewels, and gave it to the _peasants?!? _ And you didn't invite me _along?!?!"_

Trying not to look pained at his friend's insensitivity, Rohan calmed his friend. "Angus, the people were much more desolate than any villager in the entire region of Kells. King Conchobar doesn't need any more funds, and the people of Temra need to know that we care and accept them as Kellsmen now. And I didn't invite you along because we all know how..._sticky_...your hands get around treasure."

"Well said, Rohan. Well said indeed. I am always amazed at how wise you have become. You would have made your parents proud." Said Cathbad.

Rohan grimaced at this and finished his wine in one gulp with the toss of his head. In an effort to disarm a potentially bad situation, Ivar suggested a toast to peace.

"No." said Rohan, looking at his plate.

Deirdre starred at him. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"

Slowly Rohan brought a leather bag from his lap to set it on the table. Looking at Ivar, he said, "Ivar shall make no toast to peace with that shabby goblet in his hand." He handed the large bag across the table to Ivar before nursing his wine again. Ivar took the bag, wondering what had gotten into his friend.

"Go on," said Angus. "I bet he brought you a golden goblet from Maeve's castle and brought his best friend nothing!" Angus accused.

Rohan said nothing, but kept his head down, playing with his food more than eating it. Ivar pulled the string on the bag and looked inside. His head snapped up to look at Rohan. Not bothering to fully open the bag, he jumped up from the table and ran around to the other side to pull his friend up from his seat. Rohan's lip quirked in a half-smile as Ivar crushed him into an thankful embrace. "Thank you, Rohan. Thank you! By Dagda, I couldn't ask for a better gift on this night!" he said, trying to restrain the tears threatening to fall.

Curiosity go the better of Deirdre, and she pulled the object out of the bag. She gasped. "Ivar, your chalice!"

Congratulations and well-done's rose from the table to the two men smiling to each other. "A toast!" Ivar said, raising his chalice. "A toast to Rohan! The Warrior Draganta, a Mystic Knight, a friend, and a brother to all. Long may this peace last!"

"To Rohan!" repeated the others raising their glasses and drinking.

"Now," said Conchobar, "I think it is time that we all adjourned to the courtyard for some dancing and festivities!"

Everyone moved toward the door. Everyone but Rohan. "If you don't mind, my King, I wish to finnish my meal. I have not eaten all day."

"Of course, of course! Take your time. We will see you outside when you have had your fill."

When all had left the room, Rohan pushed his plate away not intending to eat anything. He then put his hands to his face, wanting  
desperately to leave the castle altogether. He did not notice that Deirdre was still in the room. "Rohan, what's wrong?" she asked, revealing herself.

Rohan straightened up. Gods, she was beautiful. Just looking at her made him want to take her in his arms and just hold her close.

"Deirdre! I didn't see you there! Nothing's wrong! I just...I'm..." he sighed. "I found the other half of the ancient scroll today."

"Well that's good, though, isn't it?" she smiled.

He walked toward the window, stepping away from her. He rested his hands on the frame and starred out at the moon. "Yes, but I was really hoping to find a clue as to who my parents are. And...it did not help." Dagda forgive him for this half-truth. He was sure to rot in darkness for it.

She crossed the room to his side and gently laid her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Rohan."

"Thank you." He said, refusing to look at her.

Deirdre knew that this had always troubled him. She observed the man before her. He looked so serious. She decided it was time to cheer him up. Mind made up, she forced him to turn and look at her.

"Rohan, you know that none of us care you were orphaned. I...we all care for you, regardless. Now come on, cheer up! Can't you hear all the laughter and music down below? Come. Dance with me." She pulled the stubborn man toward the center of the throne room and placed his arms around her for him. A fiddle started a slow expressive tune in the courtyard and they started to sway slowly to the music.

Rohan's entire focus was on the woman in his arms. She really was the mystic knight of air. She was as graceful as the wind blowing through the trees. It became apparent to him that this would be the last time he would be in this position. He gently pulled her closer as they danced, savoring the feel of her in his arms. He would do almost anything to make this woman happy. Even if it meant leaving Kells forever.

* * *

Note: Please just take the situations I give you next chapter in stride. They are far out, I know, but they are there to serve a purpose. If this story is a hit, I may write another exploring other relationships and plot lines. Until then, enjoy the ride! 


	6. Riveting Revelations

**Chapter Six: Riveting Revelations**

When the song ended, Deidre tightened her hold on him and looked up in his eyes. He had some sort of elemental power over her. His intense stare was her undoing. She could barely breathe. Rohan gently brushed his lips against hers in a tender kiss. Closing her eyes, Deirdre unabashedly kissed him back, loving the feel of his strong arms around her, making her feel warm and safe. The kiss ended as abruptly as it began with Rohan pulling back and fiercely apologizing for taking advantage of her.

"I am so sorry, Princess! I didn't mean to...I mean I...I'm sorry I should not have done that. I should go..."

"No!" she said, pulling on his arm as he tried to flee. "Rohan, I wanted it, too. You did nothing wrong!"

"But I did! You are a betrothed woman Deirdre. I have no right to kiss you, much less harbor such feelings for a woman about to be married!"

"Feelings?" she asked. Rohan looked like he had swallowed a particularly sour lemon. "What sort of feelings?"

Rohan made a beeline for the door. "I have to go. Angus is..."

"I don't have feelings for Garrett, Rohan!"

Rohan stopped and turned. "I know. But that still does not make this right. We both know that your father will hold you to your marriage as long as Garrett and his father insist upon it. We can't..._I__can't_..." he sighed. Looking up at her, Deirdre could see the tears forming in his eyes. "It just can't be." He said before running down the steps and disappearing in the crowd below. It was that moment that Garrett decided that he had seen enough. He had stayed behind just as Deirdre, worried about Rohan. He connected the dots and decided it was time to come clean. Coming out from behind a tapestry, Garrett confronted Deirdre.

"Deirdre." She turned to see her fiance standing there and almost completely lost it.

"Garrett. I couldn't help myself, you know I don't want to marry you, I don't even love you!"

"Deirdre."

"...and I wasn't going behind your back either! I swear it! I didn't even know that I had feelings like that for Rohan until this very moment!"

"Deirdre!" he yelled shaking her out of her ranting. "I don't want to marry you." he whispered.

"I'm so sorry!" she sobbed. "I've ruined everything! And I..."

"Deirdre!" he said again, more forcefully. "I don't care about Rohan. I don't want to marry you because I don't love you either!" he said.

"What?"

He led her over to the table and they sat down. He held her hands as he talked to her, wondering how to word this.

"When I escorted Princess Lynette back to her kingdom, we sort of, well...we fell in love. I was planning on telling your father in the morning that the marriage was off. I'm marrying Lynette in the Spring. So...you can stop worrying. You are a beautiful woman Deirdre, you're just not _my_ woman." He smiled at tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Kissing her forehead he said, "Now stop worrying about this stupid marriage. Go enjoy the party." With that Deirdre grinned and kissed him on the cheek. After a quick thank you, she ran for the door to find Rohan.

Down in the courtyard, she searched through the crowd. "Rohan? Rohan!" she called.

"Angus, have you seen Rohan?"

"Nope." he said through a mouthful of strawberry tart. "I haven't seen him since we left the throne room. Ivar, have you seen our _generous_ leader recently?"

"No, I haven't either. Is something wrong, Princess?"

Deirdre started to wring her hands. "No I just really need to find him. Will you two help me?"

"Sure. Come on Angus."

Angus looked at Ivar like he had two heads. "Are you crazy? And leave this delicious food to fend for itself? No way!"

"Angus!" Said Garrett glaring at him as he made his way over him. "If you don't help us find him, you might find a few snakes in your bed tonight, among other things..." he threatened.

"On the other-hand, Princess..." he dodged, "...perhaps he was not feeling good and decided to retire to his hut early. Perhaps I'd better go check on him."

They all agreed and left the party, Cathbad looking after them and wondering what was going on with the Mystic Knights.

"We've searched everywhere, Father!" Deirdre said, collapsing in her throne beside him. "We have no idea where he is!"

"This is troublesome, your majesty." said Cathbad. "I think something is going on that Rohan is not telling us about."

Angus spoke up. "Well, the only place that we _haven't_ checked yet is the King's chambers, and that doesn't seem to be a good place to hide."

"Why is that Angus?" inquired Garrett.

"Well," he replied. "We've never been inside the King's chambers. It's the last place either of us would go."

"Or the last place he would think we'd look!" said Deirdre running toward the hallway, everyone else close behind. Opening the door, Conchobar saw the roll of parchment first. A note lay next to it in Rohan's own hand. A King, druid, and four knights read the parchments, stunned.

The other half of the ancient scroll revealed that Temra was bound my law and ancient magic to only be united to another kingdom by marriage, not the take-over of another country in war. Yes, the heir of Temra _could _sign over the kingdom in a treaty of peace, but if the heir of Temra refused to marry the heir of Kells, he would be cursed to die at an early age. And if this was not achieved, the isle would not be at peace for 1000 lifetimes, but forever plagued by constant war.

Rohan left a note saying he was on a quest to find the heir, even if it killed him. He would not return until the heir to the throne of Temra was found.

Deirdre was beside herself with grief. She wouldn't be free to marry who she wanted to after all. No child of Maeve's would voluntarily give up their life when all they had to do was marry.

And now...Rohan was gone. And he wasn't coming back anytime soon.

* * *

Note: Bizarre, I know. Just go with it. The next chapter explains it a bit more in dept. It will get a bit worse before it gets better, I'm afraid. 


	7. Blood and Marriage

**Chapter Seven: Blood and Marriage**

Rohan stood in the darkness next to Pyre's cave. He knew that he could never be a mystic knight again. He had exhausted all of his options. It was his destiny to unite the island and bring peace for 1000 lifetimes. But he could not do that as a warrior. He had to be a ruler. This meant he had two options. Reveal his evil past to everyone that respected him and marry Deirdre, or sign over the kingdom to her and wait for death to take him.

The young man looked into the sky, looking much older than his twenty years. He loved Deirdre. He was always in love with her. And tonight, he thought he saw the return of such feelings in her eyes. But he knew what she'd say when he revealed he was Maeve's son. Deceiver...renegade...street-rat. Traitor. She would think this had been his plan from the beginning--to marry her so he could rule Kells _and_ Temra. She would say he was just like his mother.

Pyre growled softly, nudging his arm. Rohan knew for a while that the gentle beast could pickup on his feelings. He had just spent some time letting it all out for no one to hear but Pyre. He was thankful that the only one that knew his secret was sympathetic, as well as tight-lipped. Fondly scratching his head, he looked upon Kells once more before mounting the dragon and flying off into the night.

Either way, he figured, he needed to know how to be royalty. That was his fate. Pyre would fly him to the land in the east. When he learned enough, when he thought he was ready, he would return to take his mother's place as the King of Temra.

"OK." said Angus to Cathbad. "Explain it _one_ more time so I can understand this."

Cathbad glared at Angus, wishing _again_ that he was smarter than he looked.

"Let me try, Cathbad." said Ivar.

"By all means, do try to permeate that thick skull of his!"

Turning to an annoyed Angus, Ivar did just that.

"According to the ancient scroll, the reason Kells and Temra have been fighting for so long is because of bloodshed. The original ruler of Temra assassinated the King of Kells in cold blood. Because he used dark magic to do it, it came with a heavy price. The two nations would always be at war until the blood was repaid for the deed. The only way to compensate for it is by the combination of blood by marriage from the two heirs of the kingdoms, or by a ruler of Temra voluntarily giving his blood in death. Does that make better sense?"

"I'm not stupid, Ivar!" he scowled. "That part I get. What I _don't_ understand is why Rohan thought he had to go off by himself for this. I mean, how hard can finding an heir be? We round up everyone in Temra and Kells, and use Cathbad's voodoo to see who the heir is!"

"What's to say that the heir is even on this island, Angus?" asked a dejected looking Garrett.

"Oh, I didn't think of that..."

"He must have gone across the sea to learn of a way to find the heir." supplied Ivar.

"But why did he not let any of you go with him and help him?" pondered Conchobar.

Deirdre, who was silent for these proceedings, spoke up. "Because it's his destiny. He doesn't want anyone to get hurt for something he feels _he_ has to do. That, and who knows what lies ahead for Kells in the mean time. We don't know how long it will take Rohan. If all of us went, Kells would be unprotected and vulnerable to attack."

Everyone turned to stare at the Princess. Conchobar looked over at Garrett before turning back to Deirdre.

"Well, on the bright-side, Deirdre, Garrett has told me of his impending marriage to Princess Lynette. It seems as if your wish has come true after all!" Conchobar smiled.

Deirdre looked at her father silently before speaking. "It's more of a disappointment than a relief." she finally said.

"What?" exclaimed Garrett, "But I thought..."

"Weren't any of you paying attention!" she raved. "For Draganta to fulfill his destiny, it must happen in his lifetime! _I'm_ in his lifetime! Do you know what that means?? _I'm_ the heir of Kells that has to marry the spawn of that witch! I'm not relieved, I'm horrified! I'd rather marry Garrett than some monster that has no use of me except my own humiliation and torture!" she cried.

"Aw, come on Princess!" said Angus, "Garrett wasn't _that _bad...Ouch!" he said rubbing his head were Cathbad smacked him.

Conchobar rubbed his temples in grief. This was not the future he had planned for his daughter. "We have no choice then. No son of Maeve's would give up his life voluntarily. We all know this, unfortunately. Our entire hope rests with Rohan's search and Deirdre's...Deirdre's courage."

Turning a firm gaze to the king, Deirdre claimed, "I will do what I must for peace. I am not afraid."

Garrett rose from his chair looking quite uncomfortable. "Well, I have to return to my father to prepare for my, er...engagement." Turning his downcast eyes toward Deirdre, he sympathized, "I am so sorry, Princess..." And with that, he left.

Angus and Ivar just stared at each other. Looks like the only thing left to do is wait, and pray that Rohan knew what he was doing.

* * *

Note: Wow, looks like the Mystic Knights have quite the adventure ahead of them. Let me know what you think so far of this madness! 


	8. Friend or Foe

**Chapter Eight: Friend or Foe?**

It had been almost three years since Rohan disappeared on the Night of Victory, as the citizens of Kells called it. No one had heard anything from him since. Thankfully, no aggression between Kells and Temra occurred in all that time. Everything had been quite peaceful. It was unnerving, knowing that peace was on but the tip of a knife. Deirdre and her father were not as calm as their subjects. Both were constantly on guard for any trouble on the island.

Temra had no leadership. The people had their lives back, and so decided to follow Kells example until their heir became known. Some of the inhabitants moved to Kells altogether, afraid of whatever dictator would eventually take the evil Queen Maeve's place. As a whole, the land was barely surviving without a constant ruler in their midst. King Conchobar helped, yes, but he did not insert himself as conqueror for fear of the people's reaction.

Garrett had married Lynette just as he promised, and brought his new bride with him back to Kells. Lynette had an older brother in line for the throne ahead of her, and was subsequently free of any royal duties. Garrett, on the other-hand, was not, but since he did not marry Deirdre, Garrett's father was worried that relations with Kells would suffer. So as a token of trust, he sent his son to King Conchobar as an advisor and diplomat until he was needed to return home.

Ivar had returned his chalice to his kingdom. The Moorish King was proud of his youngest son, when told of his adventures. Ivar's father asked him to return to Kells to keep the bonds of friendship with the kingdom, in case the trustworthy ally was ever needed to lend them aid. Swearing to do so, Ivar returned to Kells after spending some time with his two older brothers.

Angus, in the meantime, took over as protector of Kells with Deirdre, keeping the soldiers on their toes and aware. Still a petty thief, he was known to spend the occasional night with Cathbad, working off his punishments for stealing and being underhanded and sneaky.

Deirdre was not well. Her spirit had been dampened. Waiting for her fate was harder than facing it. She was still confused about the whole prophesy. And even more confused about her feelings of it. Rohan had been gone a long time. She still wondered if she would have fallen in love with him if none of this happened. There were times when she thought it just might have worked out between the two of them. But then again, he wasn't nobility, and therefore on the "unfit for marriage" list. Overall, she just hoped he would come back alive, and soon. The suspense was killing her.

It was three years to the day when a report came to the king of a Temra reorganized. The army, the merchant system, the construction of new buildings...something was going on. King Conchobar did not like it one bit. It was the next day when a Temra solider asked for an audience with the king. Conchobar cautiously agreed, for he was surprised that he came alone and in fact, unarmed at all. No sword, shield, or knife on his person. He wasn't even wearing any armor or uniform, but just a plain red tunic with trousers and boots. The solider bowed and introduced himself as "Gavin." He said no more words, but handed a roll of parchment to the king and silently waited.

King Conchobar read the note before yelling for his daughter and the other Mystic Knights sans Draganta. He had just received a greeting from the King of Temra.

Deirdre, Angus, Ivar, Garrett and Lynette all dashed into the throne room at the king's call.

"It seems," said the king, "that Draganta has been successful."

At their dumbfounded expressions, he continued. "I have in my hand an invitation from the King of Temra for the King and Princess of Kells, the Mystic Knights, and any other honored guests to attend a feast in Temra in three days time. He wishes we bring the ancient scroll in its entirety. After reviewing its contents, he wishes to..."

"To what, Father? Wishes to what?" pried Deirdre.

He looked at his daughter with tears of joy in his eyes. "He wishes to create peace. He sent a copy of a truce signed in his hand and sealed with the signet of Temra to convey his sincerity." He passed the document to Garrett, who in turn, passed it to Ivar.

"This is no fake truce, your majesty." Ivar said in awe. "It is a genuine document."

"I don't like it!" said Angus. "A truce is not as solid as a peace treaty. It can be broken at anytime! What if this new _king_ is just using it as an excuse to get us in the castle? What if this is a trap?"

At this, Gavin spoke up. "My King is a noble and honest man. Nothing like his witch of a mother. He has traveled from the land in the east, and united the kingdom. Many of our citizens have renewed hope in our country's progress. If I may, Princess Deirdre, I was bid to give you this, should your doubts become present." He handed her a small pouch.

She eyed Gavin. As much as she wanted to trust this messenger, she had doubts. Not taking her eyes of him, she unhooked the flap. She then looked inside, and let out a cry before dropping the entire bag. King Conchobar rushed to her side, thinking she was hurt. She just shook her head and pointed at the bag. Angus was the first to reach for it. He too looked at the contents in wonder before pulling them out.

"The Dragon's Breath Dagger!" exclaimed Ivar.

Lynette, who did not know much of the Mystic Knights, was confused. "What's that?"

Angus looked pale. "It's Rohan's dagger. He uses it to call Pyre. He never lets it out of his sight."

He turned to Gavin, the blood rushing to his head. "YOU!!" he shouted, pulling the man off the floor by his collar. "What have you done with Rohan?!? What did you do to him? Did your king kill him? Answer me!! Where is he?!?!"

Garrett pulled Angus off the frightened messenger when Lynette spoke up again. "Wait, Angus. There is a note as well!"

Ivar unfolded the note. "It's from Rohan! It's in his own hand...you better hear this..."

They all crowded around Ivar as he read.

"My friends, first thing is first. Tell Angus to leave the messenger alone, as I am not harmed. I am delighted to say that I have finally succeeded in my quest! I have found the heir of Temra. He was very disturbed when he heard of Maeve's atrocities, and even more distressed when learning she was his mother. He told me that he was an orphan up until now, no biological parents that he knew of, and no one to call family. We are alike, him and I. He understands me more than I do myself at times. I asked him his name--he is called Donovan. After many days, I think I have finally convinced him of the duty he has to his people. He is a good man. He is afraid of how the people will see him, being Maeve's son. At one point, he said that he has decided to forever wear a mask, hiding his face in shame of his family. I told him this wasn't necessary, but he explained it to me. I think you should wait to hear it from him. Something went wrong with one of the ships in the fleet we were to travel across the sea in. I have decided to stay and take care of the problem while Donovan sails ahead. The dagger is proof that he is who he says he is. I shall be back soon.

Rohan

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Note: Thanks to Sweetsas for all her reviews! 


	9. The Mask

**Chapter Nine: The Mask  
**

Everyone in Kells was excited about the prospect of peace. The Mystic Knights had a small celebration that night, knowing that Rohan would return to them soon. Deirdre was a little tense throughout the get-together. She was now one step closer to marriage. Although she trusted Rohan when he said King Donovan was a good man, she couldn't help but think that some sort of evil lived inside him. Maeve was a sinister ruler. She feared that some of her tendencies might have been passed on to her son.

It was late afternoon when Angus and the company of royalty came upon Temra castle for the feast. Lynette had insisted going with them. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She wanted to see this new King. Donovan had left instructions that the knights were welcome to bring weapons if they so choose. That was exactly what they did. With both King and Princess of Kells away from their kingdom, they were taking no chances. On the trip through the countryside, it was clear that the new King was serious about improving the lives of his people. New wells had been dug, irrigation ditches built for fields, storehouses erected...Temra never looked so good. And the people greeted the band of Kellsmen with smiles as they passed through.

When they finally got to the castle, Gavin was waiting to escort them inside.

"Welcome to Temra, your majesties, and..." he hesitated when looking at Angus. "and knights...the King awaits in the throne room where the feast has been prepared. As ordered, I am to let you pass with your weapons, but know that the royal guard is very protective of their new King. They will not hesitate to strike you down where you stand should open hostility be your intent." warned Gavin.

The castle itself was very different than when the Mystic Knights saw it last. Everything seemed brighter and more cheerful. There were not many expensive trimmings, but just a few woven tapestries on the wall. It was not the traditional Temra crest, but altered to look like a dragon surrounded by green foliage. The throne room itself had been cleaned up considerably. The walls have been lightened, the torches helping to make the room more hospitable, and the throne replaced altogether. The new throne was a simple chair with a dragon carved on its face and a red cushion placed upon the seat. It looked comfortable, but not an overwhelming statement of riches or power. A long mahogany table spread the length of the room with all sorts of meats, vegetables, fruits, cheeses, and other delicasies sitting atop its polished surface. It was set for the King and six others. Lynette was glad that she was expected and not considered an unwelcome guest after all.

"Welcome to the realm of the new Temra." a deep and somewhat distorted voice proclaimed. Turning around, they caught their first glimpse of the King of Temra, Maeve's son and heir. He was quite tall, and dressed in different hues of red. He wore no cape, but a longsleeved tunic with the crest of the dragon on the front. On his hands were red gloves, the signant of Temra over the gloves on his right ring finger. The sharpest feature of this new kings was his silver mask. His hair was covered, as well as his neck. In fact the only human feature visible to the observer was his piercing blue eyes. There was no opening for his mouth, and so caused his voice to distort as he spoke. He was a formidable creature, standing there in front of his guests. He looked more like a warrior or an ancient beast than a king. Deirdre was frightened. Was this the man she was destined to marry?

"Come, my guests! You must be hungry from your long journey. Sit. Sit, make yourselves comfortable!"

Many thoughts were swimming through the minds of his guests as they took their seats at the table. King Conchobar was wondering if the food was poisoned. This king wasn't planning on eating, if his mask was any indication. Deirdre was staring at the long sword at his waist. It did not look like a sword with any magical powers, but she knew not to take anything to heart at first glance. Ivar was wondering where he got his silver mask. It looked as if it came from somewhere near the Silk Road in the far east. Lynette and Garrett where both thinking the same thing: the lack of finery in the castle was a good sign. And poor predictable Angus was ogling all the food on the table. When they were all seated, the others noticed that the king had no goblet or plate. He was not going to eat with them.

King Donovan sat at the head of the table with King Conchobar and Deirdre to his sides. "As you can see, I shall not be joining you in your feast for obvious reasons," he stated tapping the metal mask, "but if you wish a servant to taste your food for you, I have no objection. You have no fear of any poisons from me."

"That won't be necessary," said Angus, already on his second leg of roast lamb. "Angus!" Deirdre exclaimed.

Donovan laughed. "I see now that Draganta was not exaggerating when telling me of his best friend's bottomless stomach!" he snickered. "Now then, lets make this visit as painless as possible. Do you have the scroll? I can review it as you eat, if you like."

Ivar cautiously passed him the scroll. The company ate in silence as Donovan read and reread the prophecy. The dishes were cleared, per Gavin's orders, and the king brought parchment and wax over to the table and reclaimed his seat. Angus was arguing with a servant who was trying to take his plate. "Let them take your plate, young Angus, and they will see to it you have a healthy helping of strawberry tart from the kitchens." Angus released his plate in surprise. "How did you know my favorite de..." Donovan chuckled. "Do you all forget the time I spent with Draganta? It took him upwards of a year to convince me to come here. He often told me many stories of his friends and adventures." he explained.

"Now! Back to business, I believe. After my death, the kingdom shall be passed to Princess Deirdre in a binding contract. I have it ready to sign here. In the meantime, I shall..."

"Wait a minute!" interrupted Deirdre. Donovan looked up at her and crossed his arms in impatience. "Does this mean," she asked, "that you do not wish to marry me?"

"You are correct your highness. Now, as I was saying..."

"What? Am I not good enough for you? Does marrying a woman of Kells descent disgust you?!?" she screamed.

"Deirdre..." warned her father.

Garrett had hoped she could have kept her pride in check. She was getting out of this easy! Donovan was going to give up his life for peace and not marry her. She was in luck! She could marry whomever she wanted to now! Why was she pushing his buttons by arguing? She was taking it too personally.

Deirdre continued to rant and rave as Donovan ignored her. He signed the contract, and sealed it with his signet ring, and passed it to Conchobar to review and sign.

"Just like that?" he asked, with raised eyebrow.

"Just like that." Donovan said calmly.

"I must ask," Ivar wondered. "why the mask?"

"I wear this mask," he replied turning to Ivar, "to remove all presence of evil in this place. I promised my people not hint of Maeve would remain after rebuilding the kingdom. That also includes me. Trust me, no one wishes to see this accursed face. I don't even want to see it myself when facing my own reflection. I shall bear no sons or daughters. I shall have no wife or concubine. After I die, my promise will be complete. Princess Deirdre shall rule the united island, and all traces of Maeve will be forever gone. Her line shall die along with her crimes. Now then, it is starting to get dark. I believe it is time you started your journey home, King Conchobar."

Bowing to each of them in turn, Donovan turned to leave the room when Deirdre spoke up again. "You are up to something, I know it! When Rohan returns, I shall have you watched every hour of your pathetic life! A monster you may be, but a caged one you shall become!!!" she bellowed.

Conchobar was furious with her. She had just insulted the King that volunteered death for peace. He was about to rebuke her when Donovan turned and asked Conchobar, "May I have a moment with your daughter before you leave, please. There is something we need to discuss in private." The calmness in his voice contradicted the fury in his eyes.

Conchobar was about to refuse when Donovan drew his sword. The knights reacted quickly, drawing their weapons and aiming at him. Donovan said no words, but flipped his sword around, holding it by the blade. Handing it to Garrett, he said, "She is safe here. Take my weapon. The contract is null and void if I so much as harm a hair on her head." Garrett hesitantly took the King's sword and then left with Lynette close behind. Deirdre was about to get chewed out by this man, and as much as he wanted to see it, he knew she hit a tender-spot with Donovan. She deserved the tongue lashing she was about to receive. "I did not improve these lands and the lives of the people to just have them plunged back into an eternal war!" Donovan exclaimed. Ivar looked convinced and followed Garrett and Lynette out the door. The rest of the knights soon followed, King Conchobar glaring at the mysterious man before him, before hesitantly leaving.

Donovan turned to Gavin. "Leave us, all of you. This conversation requires privacy." Gavin bowed motioning to the guards. When the room was cleared, the only ones left in the room were an angry King, and a stubborn Princess.

"Have a seat Princess, we must talk."

* * *

Note: Think "Kingdom of Heaven" for Donovan's mask. It may be awhile before I update again. I want to get this next part right, I don't want to rush through it and do a bad job. If you want, send me your email, and I can email you when I update.  



	10. Truth and Turmoil

**Chapter Nine: Truth and Turmoil**

"Have a seat, Princess. We must talk."

Deirdre glared at Donovan before confidently turning on her heel and sitting on his own throne. They stared at each other in opposition for a few moments before Donovan sighed, "Very well, then. Have it your way..." and retrieved his chair from his writing desk. Deirdre smirked and made herself comfortable, lounging sideways in the chair with her legs thrown over the armrest. Donovan said nothing as he placed his chair to the left of the throne and sat down facing her. They stared at each other for several minutes, daring each other to be the first to speak. Deirdre began to get a bit weary with those blue eyes piercing into her soul. She was the fist to break the staring contest.

"So then. What in the name of Dagda do you want, you impostor?" She smiled sarcastically.

Donovan closed his eyes and counted to ten. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but he _had_ hoped it would have been easier than a one-on-one confrontation with the stubborn woman. "This, Princess, is what I want. And in this order. Number one, peace on this island. Number two, to improve the lands and the lives of the people before I am taken from this world. And number three, I want you to quit _antagonizing_ me every step of the way!"

"Oh please!" Deirdre said, rolling her eyes. "The others may believe your lies but I don't. You have no proof that you are who you say you are! For all we know, you could have brainwashed Rohan to write that letter! The fact that he isn't even _back_ yet is proof enough to me that you are not the real heir."

Donovan sat up, alarmed. "Draganta hasn't returned to Kells yet? He was supposed to arrive a week ago!"

Deirdre stared at him in shock. "He what?"

Donovan leaped out of his chair. "Gavin! Gavin!!" he bellowed.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind the throne before the door opened and Gavin appeared. "Yes, your majesty?" he bowed.

"What news on Rohan of Kells? Has he not returned yet?"

Gavin stared at the stone floor. "No, my King. We have had no news since we left port almost a month ago."

Deirdre sat up in the throne, listening closely to the conversation.

"And the fleet?" asked Donovan. "The rest of the fleet has returned?"

"Yes, highness, they returned last week, almost a fortnight behind schedule. The captain reported that Draganta had not boarded the vessel. They created a search party and searched the entire port, but there was no trace of him."

Donovan started to pace. "This does not bode well. Gavin, I want you to send word back to the port...send it with our fastest ships. I want Rohan found! Mystic Knight or not, it is dangerous for him to be alone in that country without anyone else to help him. Foolish man! As soon as he is found, have it arranged to put him on the first ship out of there, and as soon as he arrives back, send him to me. I don't care how close our friendship is, I will lecture the _curls_ out of his hair!!!"

"Yes, my King!" replied Gavin before scampering off to complete his King's orders.

Donovan groaned and fell back into his chair. Looking over at Deirdre, he saw her burning a hole in the floor with her eyes.

"Don't worry, Princess. I'm almost positive that Rohan is merely attempting to locate his long lost family. I'm sure he is just fine."

"What makes you so sure?" she whispered.

"Because I've seen him in battle. He can handle himself."

Deirdre nodded silently and returned her gaze to the floor, her stubbornness forgotten.

"Come." Said Donovan as he stood from his seat. "I think it is time we had your questions answered."

Deirdre stood without a word and followed him silently through the door behind the throne. After several twists and turns, she found herself in front of an ornate looking locked door near the bottom of the castle.

"Aren't these doors a little fancy for a dungeon?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Donovan laughed. "That they are, Princess! Which is why this is not the dungeon. This is the royal treasury. Here," he said offering her a gold key shaped like a dragon, "open it and see for yourself!"

Deirdre took the key and placed it in the lock. She tried to turn it, but it wouldn't budge. "It's not working. It doesn't fit."

Donovan took the key back and motioned to a nearby guard. The guard bowed and withdrew a dagger, handing it to the King before returning to his post.

"This is proof that I am Maeve's son. Remember it well." With that he took off a red glove and revealed his strong hand. Taking the dagger, he sliced his palm and placed the key in his bloody hand.

"What are you doing!" exclaimed Deirdre.

"The Kings of old made the treasury impenetrable except by the blood of the royal family. Back in that time, there was trouble with advisors and other nobles stealing from the King. This way, no one could enter without the King's permission. Their methods were disturbing, but effective."

Donovan took the key out of his hand and placed it back in the lock. "Try it now." he said fisting his hand to stop the blood flow.

Deirdre grimaced at the gory traditions of past Temra Kings and carefully turned the key. The door opened with a loud click. Deirdre gasped at the gold and silver behind the door.

"How can all this be here when Rohan gave it all away three years ago?" she asked.

Donovan closed the door and pocketed the key. "In case you haven't noticed, I've been working hard to rebuild this kingdom. Commerce has soared since I have arrived. My ties in the east have actually paid off."

He returned the dagger to the guard and continued down the hallway. "Now do you believe me, Princess?" he said, not turning to face her.

"Well, yes." She said, almost running to match his long stride down the hall. "But I still don't understand why you are not forcing me to marry you. You are aware that you will die otherwise, aren't you?"

Donovan stopped in front of large double doors. "Yes, I am aware of the consequences. I shall address that next." He opened the door and signaled that she proceed him into the room. Deirdre gasped. All around her were shelves of scrolls and books. The entire wall was lined with them, save one wall, which had a grand stone fireplace. Soft-looking furniture faced the fireplace with a table in the center.

"What is this place?" asked an awed Princess.

"Welcome to my collection." he whispered. "On my journey back to Temra, Rohan and I started to collect all kinds of scrolls and books on many subjects. Literature, warfare, trade, something called 'mathematics,' inventions...you name it. It was his idea to turn this place into a haven of learning. I plan to teach my people to read and write...before I go, that is."

"You and Rohan did all this?" she asked in wonder.

"Yes. And that brings me to our next conversation. Please, sit."

Deirdre sat on a cushioned bench next to Donovan.

"About three months ago, I was in major trouble. I was traveling through the country when I was ambushed by bandits. My horse galloped as fast as it could go, but it wasn't fast enough. I was hit in the back with an arrow. I was resigned to my fate, but then Rohan appeared and saved me. I was somewhat upset at the time, I was looking forward to death, in reality. There is no future in the east for an orphaned peasant. Death is almost a gift. To make a long story short, I owed him a life-debt. Even though I am now a king, I am even more prepared to die. Maeve's line _must_ end. I repay my debt to him by allowing you to marry who you wish."

"But..._why??"_

"Because, Princess. As far as I am concerned, I am already dead. That, and Rohan is like family to me. I don't want him to suffer."

Deirdre's head snapped up. "What do you mean, suffer?"

Donovan sighed. "Rohan loves you, Princess. To marry you myself would eventually kill him."

Deirdre looked shocked. "He...he _loves_ me?"

Donovan cocked his head sideways. "You mean you didn't know?"

"I...I, no. No I didn't. I mean, I had hoped that..." she stuttered.

"Well," said Donovan. "Now you know. Gavin!" he called. Gavin ran into the room.

"Have one of the faster horses readied for the Princess's departure."

Gavin bowed and went to send the message along to the stables.

Deirdre turned to Donovan with tears in her eyes. "How can I ever repay you for your sacrifice?" she asked.

Donovan stood. "By living a full life and ruling well, Princess. Nothing more."

Gavin opened the door. "The horse is ready, my King!"

"Good." Whispered Donovan, not taking his eyes off of Deirdre.

Slowly, she stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his mask where his cheek should have been. "Thank you for my freedom." she breathed before running out the door.

Donovan stood there, staring after her. Gavin closed the door and cleared his throat.

Startled, Donovan asked, "Yes? What is it?"

"You didn't really want me to send that message, did you?"

"Of course not! It would be a waste of our resources."

Gavin eyed the King. "That was quite the lie you came up with just now." he said.

Donovan chuckled. "I should have known that you'd be listening in, Gavin."

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" He asked, hands clasped calmly behind his back.

"Granted." he moaned, collapsing onto the bench.

"Are you crazy?!?!" Screamed Gavin. "The woman _obviously_ has feelings for you! Just tell her the truth and marry her for goodness sakes!!!"

Donovan turned a hardened stare to his advisor. "Gavin, I freed her. She would have married me not by choice, but by duty. It's better this way. She will forget me eventually, and she will marry someone worthy of her. Just leave me be."

Gavin looked at his King and noticed his hand. "What happened to your hand?"

"I opened the treasury. It hasn't stopped bleeding yet."

Gavin rushed over to look at the wound. He dug through his tunic and found a handkerchief. He wrapped it around his hand and replaced his glove. "You need to be more careful."

Donovan looked at his friend. "Perhaps. But in the meantime, we have work to do. I want that treasury cleared out. Have it transfered to a normal vault with a normal key."

"Why? What for?"

Donovan looked at his hand, it had finally stopped bleeding, but not before soaking through his red glove.

"Because it is already starting." he whispered. "I signed the scroll this evening. I don't know how long before I can stop the bleeding anymore." Gavin turned and left his King, sitting on the dark blue cushions, staring at the drops of blood dotting the fabric.

Gavin entered the treasury using the key and the King's blood that had fallen on his hand. He passed on the orders and also commanded that the treasury door remain unlocked until all the gold hand been transfered. He then entered his rooms next to the library and sat down on his bed to think. He _had_ to do something. His King was determined to perish. Gavin knew that this was not his true destiny. He had proven himself a competent ruler and sympathetic man. He had to get him to tell the Princess the truth. But how? One thing was for sure, they were a great match. The King was just as stubborn as she was! Gavin stood and began to pace. He wasn't going to let his friend commit suicide.

He was going to save Rohan's life.

* * *

Note: Y'all were lucky that I didn't have work or class today! Otherwise, you would have had to wait longer for this one. I'm debating doing another story after this one. It depends if I can think of a good enough scenario. So review and send me some ideas! 


	11. Can Lies Reveal Truth

**Chapter Eleven: Can Lies Reveal Truth?**

Gavin, though slippery in nature, had no idea how he was going to pull this off. When he first entered Rohan's service, he had sworn an oath to keep his King's secrets. He knew he could not tell Princess Deirdre directly, nor would he, if he could. She would not believe him. Rohan had to be the one to reveal the truth. But how to convince him? He seemed adamant to stick to his original plan. His only hope was to get Princess Deirdre and "Donovan" together.

Gavin paced the kitchen, his breakfast forgotten on the table. He needed a reason for the two to spend time together. A lot of time. He took a swig of his cold tea and grimaced. "It would be ironic to have to start a war to get them to realize their love for each other..." he muttered.

The cup fell to the stone floor and shattered. Gavin ran screaming from the room. "Conall! Conall, come quick! I've an urgent message for you to deliver to Kells!"

Lynette and Deirdre were walking through the small village near the castle. Since returning to Kells with her husband Garrett, it seemed that many confided in her. Angus would often talk of how he missed his best friend. King Conchobar would voice his concern for his daughter. And here was Deirdre, her last conversation with King Donovan leaving her in disarray.

"He just baffles me, Lynette. I understand why he does not wish to continue Maeve's line, but that does not mean he should die, does it?"

Lynette sighed. "He cannot both marry you and end her legacy. He would marry you, and you would have no children. It would be a quick end to the new Kells, only one generation of peace. You must respect his wishes. For all our sakes."

"Yes, but...oh I don't know!" she said. "He seems so...together. He makes sense he...he seems to truly want the same things that we want. Is it selfish of me to not want to see him gone so quickly?"

Lynette looked at her red-haired companion. She seemed so lost. The future of the island rested on her shoulders. Lynette knew her to be capable, but without someone to help her, she may fall into despair. If only Draganta was here. He would stand by her. Lynette always had a feeling that the two of them were a bit more than friends. But without him, she didn't know what would happen to Deirdre.

"Deirdre, I don't think it to be selfish. I mean, it is, but it isn't."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, we know the Ancient Scroll says that Donovan will die at an early age, but it does not say exactly when or how. He may be with us longer than expected. It is selfish to want him here longer than his time, but on the same thought, wise to hear his wisdom for as long as possible. Does that make any sense?"

Deirdre nodded. "Yes. In fact you are quite right. Perhaps I should learn all I can from him before...well, you know, before he is...gone."

Lynette smiled. "That is a very good idea, Deirdre."

"Princess Deirdre! Princess!"

Both women turned to see a messenger in Temra garb ride up. He dismounted and bowed before withdrawing a note. "Princess Lynette, Princess Deirdre, the King of Temra hopes to find you well. I have a message for you, Princess Deirdre."

Deirdre raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well then, let us see what all the ruckus is about." She took the parchment offered her and broke the seal. Reading it silently to herself, she smiled. "Lynette, how would like to come with the Mystic Knights to Temra Castle this afternoon?" she asked.

"I guess I could. What is this all about? What was in the note?" she asked.

"You will see." she replied. Turning to the messenger, she said, "Tell King Donovan the Mystic Knights shall meet him presently, with the company of Princess Lynette as well."

"Yes, your majesty." he bowed. Mounting his horse, he rode off toward his master to deliver the news.

When he was out of sight, Lynette turned on Deirdre. "Well, are you going to just stand there looking proud of yourself, or are you going to tell me what is going on?" she demanded.

Deirdre grinned. "Just go to the stables and have them prepare the horses. I'll fetch the others and I will explain it to everyone on the way."

After riding for several miles toward Temra Castle, Angus spoke up. "So what's going on? Why are we all going to Temra Castle, and with our mystic weapons?"

Deirdre turned to face him. "We have been invited by King Donovan to help in his new training program. He sent a message wishing us to come give a demonstration of our skills for the new recruits."

"Say, what?!?!" Angus exclaimed. "You mean we are all going to help strengthen Temra's Army? Are you insane?!?!?"

Ivar rolled his eyes. "Angus, it will be a Kells Army as well. Have you forgotten the scroll?"

"But, but..." he stammered, "Why do we need an army if the land will be at peace for a thousand lifetimes?"

Deirdre stopped her horse. "How can you be so dull, Angus? What about _after_ that? How would our people know how to fight? Much less defend themselves? If we do not keep passing on our teachings to the next generations, we are dooming our descendants!" she urged her horse to continue on.

Angus followed silently, thinking hard about what Deirdre said. It _did_ make sense. I sounded like something Rohan would say...Rohan...how he missed him. He was silent for the rest of the journey.

Garrett rode up beside Lynette and Deirdre. "I am impressed, Deirdre. You certainly are becoming a wise ruler like your father." he said.

"Thank you." she smiled. "That is all I hope for these days..."

Garrett and Lynette exchanged a glance. Poor Deirdre, she needed to make a new friend in Rohan's stead. All of this self-pity cannot be good for her. Garrett had a feeling that she blamed herself for Rohan's disappearance. Lynette had told him that Deirdre believed that if it wasn't for her kingdom's problems, Rohan would have stayed. Garrett shook his head. For someone so smart, she really could be stupid at times.

Rohan and Gavin stood on a hill near the castle, helping the commander train the new recruits. Rohan looked toward the south and grimaced. "Gavin!" he growled. "Is there a particular reason that the Mystic Knights are riding toward my castle, uninvited?"

"Oh no, your highness. They were, in fact, issued an invitation." he smiled.

Rohan narrowed his blue eyes. "By whom?" he demanded.

Gavin just smirked. "You, of course!"

Rohan looked back towards the approaching horses in alarm. "Gavin, what have you done?"

"Oh nothing much, just issued an invitation on your behalf to the knights. They are here to help you train the new recruits and give a demonstration of their mystic weapons. I'm sure the Kells recruits that King Conchobar sent here a week ago will be glad to see a familiar face or two." he grinned.

Rohan shook his head. "Gavin, sometimes I really, _really_ dislike you." he moaned.

At about that time, the Kells caravan stopped next to the recruits. Rohan turned to them, forcing out a jolly greeting. "Welcome back to Temra, my friends! I am pleased that you accepted my...invitation."

"The pleasure is all ours, King Donovan." Deirdre said, dismounting.

Donovan bowed. "Princesses Deirdre, Lynette. Princes Ivar and Garrett. Sir Angus. I am fortunate to have such fine swordsmen at my side. Shall I brief you on our program?"

"That would be wonderful, your majesty." replied an excited Ivar.

As the recruits sparred, Donovan walked with them and gave a short summary of his work.

"Any who wish to learn are invited. You may spot several Kellsmen in the group as well. King Conchobar sent some of his men here to learn in hopes of taking the teachings back to Kells Castle. He seemed very excited in his last correspondence. Those that do not know how to read and write, are tutored in the mornings while the others have free access to the scrolls and books in my possession. Sparring and other hands-on activities take place in the afternoon and evening. This week, the focus is on the basic styles of sword fighting. Last week was an introduction in hand-to-hand combat. Eventually, we will cover archery and horsemanship as well. The men dine with me at my table at night and sleep in the castle near to the library." Donovan paused for any questions. There was silence.

"Have you no questions for me? Concerns, or even ideas?" he inquired.

Ivar looked back and forth at the dumbstruck faces of his comrades. "I believe we are just all in shock, King Donovan, at the...methodical...arrangement that you have created. It is a striking and imposing ambition."

Behind the mask, Rohan smiled at his friend's praise. "Thank you, Prince Ivar." he said. "Now, would you be so kind as to give these young men a demonstration of your weapons?"

Deirdre put her nose in the air and stepped forward. "Of course, Donovan. Come along, Angus." she ordered. Angus turned to the others and imitated her, "Come along, Angus..." he squeaked. The others snickered as they joined Deirdre and Angus.

Deirdre explained to the troops the basics of each of their weapons, along with their magical powers. After demonstrating each weapon in turn and answering an assortment of questions, the knights called upon their armor and began to spar with each other, showing off a bit as they did so. The men were dazzled with the performance.

Rohan stood near Gavin and Princess Lynette. He was silently watching Deirdre command the attention of the troops. She would make a great leader. She could command such loyalty...his heart was a perfect example of that.

Lynette turned to Rohan. "My Lord is not impressed with the demonstration?" she asked.

"Oh, on the contrary!" he replied. "But it is hard to seem impressed with people you have heard so much about." he said.

"So you and Rohan are close?" she pried.

Rohan looked her right in the eyes. "Very. In all honesty, we are closer than brothers."

She nodded. "So you are as worried about his disappearance as Deirdre is then?"

Rohan sighed. "I wish I had more information to give you. For all I know, he his either living a happy life somewhere unknown, or he is dead. I hope it is not the latter, but I have a feeling that it will be true."

Lynette raised questioning brow. "_Will be true_?"

Rohan winced, that was a bit too truthful. "I have no news, Princess Lynette, and I wish to have none. If I do not know, then I will not have to mourn him." he lied.

Lynette looked over toward Deirdre. "So in any case, he is not coming back." she stated.

"I don't believe so." Rohan whispered.

They watched the knights silently thereafter. The sun was about to set, when Donovan interrupted the fighting exhibition. "Thank you for your help, but it is getting late. Might I suggest you stay in the guest quarters tonight and continue with us tomorrow?"

Deirdre sat down with the rest of the knights on the hill, breathing heavily. "We do not wish to impose on your time, King Donovan." she said.

"Nonsense!" he replied. "It is no trouble. I can have a messenger send news to King Conchobar of your late return if you wish."

Lynette elbowed Garrett. "Get her to accept, Garrett!" she whispered.

Garrett looked in bewilderment at his wife. "Just do it!" she hissed. Garrett shrugged and spoke up, "We would be honored to stay, your majesty."

"Excellent! Gavin, escort the knights to the guest rooms in the _west_ wing please, and have Conall ride to Kells and inform King Conchobar of the situation." he ordered.

Deirdre was confused. Why did Garrett want to stay so badly? Well, by the looks of the others, they wished to stay as well. Who could blame them? This was the most exciting thing to have happened since Donovan first arrived on the island. Her thoughts were halted by Donovan.

"Supper is served in the throne room shortly, so if you wish to clean up before dining, you may do so. I regret that I will not be joining you, for I have matters of state to attend to. I shall leave instructions for the library to remain open for your examination in my absence. Forgive me for not being a better host, but there are things that require my immediate attention tonight. A bid you good night."

With that, he quickly hastened back to the castle without a backward glance. Gavin stared after him. "You must forgive his majesty." he explained. "He seems to be troubled. Over what, I do not know. This way please, to your quarters." He lead a confused and sweaty party of royals toward the castle. Perhaps he had gone too far in inviting the knights to the castle without any warning.

Garrett leaned over Lynette and whispered "Why did I do that again?"

Lynette replied, "Because you love me and trust my judgement."

Smiling and giving her a peck on the cheek, Garrett made his way to their room while Lynette went to Deirdre's room to help her freshen up. Lynette was suspicious. King Donovan was definitely hiding something. Whatever it was, his advisor Gavin must know of it. While the knights trained with the King and the recruits, Lynette planned to talk to Gavin. She had some detective work to do tomorrow.

* * *

AN: Forgive me for the late posting, this chapter was long overdue. A heartfelt thank you to all that left me reviews! And on that note, I am more encouraged to update when there are many people reviewing that they are looking forward to the next chapter ... 


	12. Conscious Catches the King

**Chapter Twelve: Conscious Catches the King**

Rohan did not acknowledge the guards as he swept through the corridors of the castle. He passed both the library and his personal quarters and stopped before a narrow wooden door with no handle or lock. He pushed a slightly worn stone and walked through the newly opened passageway. The room it revealed was large and plain. No decorations hung on the walls. The only furniture in the room was a small bench draped in red fabric that faced a dark wooden cabinet against the far wall.

Rohan crossed the room quickly and in haste to get to the cabinet, almost tripped over the bench. He placed his His hands upon the two handles, and hesitated. Taking a deep breath he slowly pulled the doors open. Inside was a small shrine with hundreds of candles. He took the candle from the wall sconce, and slowly and reverently lit the wicks of each and every one of the candles.

Replacing the first candle on the wall, he carefully sat down on the bench and stared into the flames. He watched the flickering lights and reflected on his situation. He thought of everything that had gone on during the day: the progress of the recruits, Gavin's sly actions, Lynette's questions...and Deirdre. A silent tear fell from his eye. He knew how he would die now. He knew how he would meet his end.

He would die of a broken heart.

Wiping away the tear, he looked at the now blood and tear soaked red glove on his hand. Temper rising, he tore off the glove and threw it to the floor. Not satisfied with just that, he wrenched off his mother's signet ring and the other glove and threw them both to the floor beside the first glove. He reached up to his face to tear off the mask, and paused.

He had not seen his hand since he opened the treasury with Deirdre. It was healed now. A perfect line across the palm of his right hand. Yet, the mark was not natural.

It was black.

He dropped his hand back to his side and once again stared into the flames. He rose suddenly with a new burst of energy and seized the object nestled in the center of the shrine. His old sword. He held it in his hand reverently, thinking of all the times he fought with this sword. Every time that he called upon his armor, every time he rode the skies with Pyre, and every moment he spent with his friends and loved ones.

Rohan readied himself, and began to practice his art in swift, flowing movements. He slashed at invisible enemies and blocked unseen blows. He moved the blade in his hands until a thin layer of sweat began to collect on his forehead. He was not fighting invisible enemies, he knew. This is what Rohan did when he fought himself. Whenever he doubted his resolve, whenever he was at a loss of what to do, this is where he came. In his grief, it was only when he dropped his sword from exhaustion, that he realized why he was there today. He was there because he had that accursed evil thought again.

He did not wish to die alone.

He broke down at the revelation, pounding his fists on the hard stone floor and sobbing. He was alone again. This is how Gavin found him.

"Rohan! Rohan!" he ran to him an knelt next to the grieving king. "Are you hurt?"

"Just my heart!" he cried.

Gavin held him as he mourned the loss of all he used to have. He grew exceedingly worried about his friend and King. He had not seen him this dispirited in all the time that he had know him. There was no more time for cautious planning. Rohan was headed to a place of no return. It was time to face the problem head-on.

When he finally stopped crying, Rohan wiped the tears away from beneath his mask and stood. "Thank you, Gavin." he whispered.

"Don't thank me just yet," he muttered. "The only reason I knew you were in here was because you had left the door open."

Rohan's eyes widened. "By Dagda! Anyone could have seen..."

"But they didn't!" interrupted Gavin. "You were wise enough to house your guests on the opposite side of the castle. No one saw you or the sword. Your secret is still safe. For now."

Rohan nodded at replaced the sword, blowing out the candles and closing the doors to the shrine. "I think I would die without your help, Gavin." he said.

"I am afraid, my King, that you will do so even despite it." he whispered. There was silence between the two men, each contemplating their own predicament.

Gavin turned Rohan to face him. "Please Rohan, I _beg of you!_ Don't do this. I cannot bear to see my king and friend throw his life away. Leave the name of Donovan. Tell everyone the truth! I see how it tortures you, seeing your old companions. Especially Princess..."

"...you know nothing of torture..." Rohan growled.

"But if you give up on your life..."

"I had nothing to give up I was an unworthy wretch!"

"Don't you think you ought to let them decide whether or not..."

"Be still, Gavin, or I shall..."

"It is time for you to stop running..."

"I will NOT run from my destiny!" he yelled

"You do this and your life is forfeit!!"

"THEN IT IS FORFEIT!!!"

A small voice interrupted the quarreling men. "Umm, excuse me, your majesty..."

Both heads turned swiftly to see the intruder. Lynette stood timidly in the doorway.

"I did not mean to intrude. I heard shouting. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Princess, everything is fine. Merely an argument between two friends." Rohan sighed.

He quickly looked to make sure he closed the cabinet doors before inviting the Princess in.

"My Lord, Donovan, please think about what I..."

"You are dismissed, Gavin." Rohan said firmly.

Nodding his understanding, bowed and left, a solemn look upon his face.

"So you were arguing with Gavin, were you?" asked Lynette. She heard him screaming about someone's destiny in the hall, and decided to enter and investigate. She had a feeling she missed the majority of the argument earlier.

"I would think that much would be obvious, Princess." he replied.

Lynette circled around him like a hawk eyeing prey. "Would it be too bold of me to ask what about?" she pried.

Rohan glared at her. "Yes."

They heard someone clear his throat in the doorway.

Angus looked at the two monarchs solemnly. "If I could interrupt, your majesty. Lynette, I wish to speak with you. Garrett said you were exploring this wing, that I would find you here."

Rohan turned a accusing eye at Lynette. "Really...is that so?" de drawled. "Tell me, Princess Lynette. Is it customary in your kingdom for guests to attempt to _spy_ upon their hosts?"

Lynette shot Angus a scathing look. "Angus!"

Rohan took the time to look at his best friend as Lynette whispered angrily to him. He looked much older than he remembered. There were dark circles around his eyes, and his beard was unkempt and matted.

He couldn't stand it anymore. He didn't know how long he could keep this charade up. While the two were still bickering, Rohan slowly drew out a dagger from beneath his leather armor. He held it up to the light, watching the soft light flicker off the surface of the blade. Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice that Angus and Lynette were no longer talking, but silently looking at him.

"What are you doing?" Angus asked.

Rohan looked at Angus for a moment, gathering himself. "I am doing something that should have been done when I first arrived here." He took a step toward Angus and handed him the dagger.

Angus reluctantly received the blade and looked at it. "What is this all about?" he asked.

"Tell me..." Rohan requested. "If you had an enemy that wished for death, would you have mercy on him...and kill him?"

* * *

AN: How very evil of me to leave you with such a cliffhanger...perhaps NOW you will be moved to review in hopes of hastening the end of such a horrible conflict! Happy reading!

PS. Thanks Sweetsas!


	13. To Live, or Die

**Chapter Thirteen: To Die, or to Live?**

Lynette balked. "Wha...what did you say?"

Angus wrinkled his brow. "Are you mad, Donovan?" he asked.

"Answer the question, Angus." he pushed.

Angus looked first at the blade, then Lynette, his mouth slightly ajar. He thought about what this King, no, this...man...was asking of him. Donovan, despite the black-haired knight's initial concerns, was not a threat. He had stubbornly realized this in the past few weeks. He still did not trust him, but also did not...not trust him, either. He was not a monster, he was just...human.

Angus let go of the dagger, and it clattered noisily to the floor. "You are not my enemy." he said. He turned and walked to the bench. He sat down and rested his head in his hands.

Lynette ran from the room. She needed to find help.

Rohan watched Lynette flee the room, then bent over and retrieved the fallen dagger. He did not have much time.

He marched over to Angus and faced the bench. "If not an enemy, what of a friend?" he asked desperately.

Angus looked up at Donovan. Why did he wish to die? To end it? Was it because he did not want to suffer through the Scroll's divination?

Rohan dropped to his knees. He turned his face upward, and stared into Angus's brown eyes. He lifted the dagger, and placed it once more in his best friend's palm.

"What about a friend? Could you grant a swift death...to a friend?" he whispered.

Lynette sprinted down the corridor as fast as she could manage. She burst into the library where Garrett, Ivar, and Deirdre were perusing through Donovan's extensive collection. Lynette was gasping for air. Garrett hurried to side.

"Lynette, what is it? What's the matter, love?" he asked holding her upright.

Deirdre grabbed her water and offered the goblet to her. Lynette pushed her away. "No time..." she choked.

Gavin barged into the room. "What's going on in here?"

Lynette pointed to the door. "Donovan...Angus...in the..." gasp, "...east wing. Hurry!" she pleaded.

Ivar was already out the door. Gavin held the water to Lynette's mouth. "Go quickly, I shall watch over her." he said.

Angus looked into the King's blue eyes as he knelt in front of him. "Why?" he asked. "Why do you ask this of me?"

"Because I deserve to die for the sins I have committed, and for the lies I have created to cover them up." he confessed truthfully.

Angus thought to himself. Was he really considering killing the King of Temra? What would happen?

"Do not trouble yourself, Angus. The prophecy will still come to pass. Recall that the treaty is already signed, and safely in King Conchobar's possession. As long as that document is not destroyed, the kingdom will go to Kells. The only difference will be the time."

Rohan slowly untied the strings of his leather chest-plate, and placed the armor at his side. Beneath was a red tunic, unfastened at the neck. He knelt there, vulnerable to his liberator, his hands and neck revealed.

"Place the knife on my throat, Angus. Give me mercy! Free me from my torment!" he pleaded. He placed his right hand gently over his heart.

Angus positioned the dagger on the King's throat, his hand shaking.

Rohan drew a breath, and then released it. This was it. His destiny would be fulfilled, and everyone would be free to live their lives as they wished. This was for Kells. This was for Dierdre.

His heart swelled with regret...Dierdre. "Forgive me..." he whispered.

Angus thought he was asking him for forgiveness. He wondered what for. He steeled himself, steadying his quivering hand, and looked into Donovan's eyes...

The Mystic Knights ran through the castle, led by Ivar. Deirdre yelled ahead to him. "Gavin said to go to the end of the hall on the right!" She did not know why, but her heart was pounding in her chest. She was afraid of what she would find at the end of that hall. Angus never liked Donovan, but she did not think he would fight him voluntarily. He was protective, but not prejudiced. As they got nearer to the corridor, her pulse sped up even faster...something was terribly wrong.

Ivar turned the corner sharply and plowed straight into Angus. Ivar grabbed hold of the knight's vest to keep his balance. "What's going on Angus? Who's in trouble?"

Angus brushed himself off and looked at the group gathered around him. "Everything is alright now." he said. "There is nothing to fear...at least not anymore."

Garrett brought his hand to his mouth. "Good Gods, Angus! What have you done!" he breathed.

Angus looked Garrett in the eyes. "I showed the coward no mercy!" he growled before stalking back towards his room.

Deirdre prepared herself for the worst as she ran to the door. She looked up to see Donovan sprawled face-up on the floor, a dagger near his head. "Oh, no!" she dashed to the King's side to feel for a heartbeat. Her hand touched his neck when his eyes suddenly snapped open. Deirdre gave a little shriek of surprise and fell backwards. "Is he...dead?" asked Garrett, frozen in the doorway.

Before Deirdre could answer, Donovan sat up and looked at her. Ivar let out a sigh of relief. "The blade is clean, he is not hurt." he declared.

Garrett went to his side. "What happened? What did Angus do? Are you alright?"

Donovan stood and sheathed the dagger. "Angus has just given me a tongue-lashing for my...oh, how did he put it?" he pondered replacing his gloves and armor. "Ah yes, for my 'pathetic and spineless cowardice,' I believe were his words. Now if you will excuse me, I am off to bed. It is late. I have business to attend to in the morning. Good night." he stalked out the door without another word.

Deirdre was still sitting on the floor staring off into space. Ivar and Garrett exchanged confused glances. What was Lynette so afraid of? What was going on around here? They all started to walk back to the library, unknowingly leaving a clue behind them in a cabinet...

Angus slammed his door and fell on his bed. He could not kill King Donovan. To want out before his time, when others were begging for life was just...criminal. If he thought he deserved death, then perhaps life is the better punishment for him. Besides, there was something about his eyes that stopped him dead in his tracks. Those blue eyes looked so, familiar...

* * *

AN: I tried to hold back as much as I could, but in the end, I just _had_ to share this one. This is my favorite chapter so far. Please tell me what you think, I'm having trouble on where I should go from here, your feedback about this chapter would really be of some help! 


	14. Moving On

**Chapter Fourteen: Moving On **

Lynette was pacing the floor of her chambers while Garret watched her tread a new path into the cold stone at her feet. She was talking animatedly, explaining everything she saw and heard earlier that day. Garret's eyes were growing wide in disbelief the longer she went on.

"You can't be serious!" he said, "There is absolutely no way that Donovan asked Angus to _kill him_! You must be mistaken!"

Lynette bounced onto the bed next to him and glared. How could he not believe her? She was his wife. Since when did he have any reason to not believe her about something? He was supposed to support her. "I _know_ what I saw!" she fumed.

Garret lifted his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! Let's just say for the sake of argument that all that happened. Why? Why would Donovan ask Angus to do such a thing?"

Lynette sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "I don't have the slightest idea! This is so frustrating! One minute, the man is very likable, doing marvelous things for Deirdre's country and his own, and then the next minute he acts like an unbalanced, melodramatic nutcase!"

Garret smiled at her rant and scratched his chin. "I don't think he's the _only_ one being melodramatic." he taunted. Lynette preceded to hit him repeatedly over the head with her pillow.

Deirdre was in a contemplative mood that night. She found herself tossing and turning in her soft bed and could not find the sleep she was so desperately seeking. She looked out the window and saw that it was still dark outside. Groaning, she got up and lit the candelabra by her bed and got dressed, slinging her crossbow about her shoulders. She decided to go see if the library was still unlocked so she could find some distraction from her thoughts. As she neared the double doors, she saw a light glowing from the crack under the door. Someone was already inside. Gently, she turned the knob and peered inside.

Angus looked up from his book at the sound of the squeaking door hinges. "Oh, it's just you."

Deirdre closed the door behind her and set down her candles. "Yes, just me. What are you doing up, Angus?"

Angus rubbed his eyes and took another sip from his goblet. "Same as you, I'm guessing. I couldn't sleep. Had a lot of thinking to do."

"Why won't you tell me what went on tonight, Angus?" she asked gently, sitting beside him.

"Why won't you go ask Lynette? You two always seem to enjoy your 'girl talks.'" he fussed, turning a page with a little extra force. He hated talking about serious things. He preferred to not look back on uncomfortable situations and just pretend that they never happened. He rather thought that this conversation might end up going under that same treatment.

Deirdre sighed and starred at the flames dancing in the fireplace. "I already tried that. She won't budge. She seems to think that it wasn't that important, and that it hasn't changed anything."

"She's right." Angus said. "The treaty is signed, Donovan will eventually die, and you will rule. Nothing _has_ changed."

Deirdre took the book from his hands and set it down on the side table, forcing Angus to look at her. "Angus, why is everyone so on edge then? I feel as if I am missing a key piece to a puzzle!"

Angus made a go for the book, but Deirdre smacked his hand. "Ow! Will you just--gahh! Everyone feels like something weird is going on, alright? You were just a little bit behind. It is all too perfect of a set-up to take it all in stride, that's all. Now give me back my book!" he demanded.

Deirdre sighed. "I guess you are right. Ivar pretty much said the exact same thing before retiring earlier. Although, he was a whole lot nicer than you in pointing out my ignorance."

Angus gave her a lop-sided smile. "That's because he is a prince, and I am a thief who doesn't know any better!"

Deirdre grinned at that. "You know, Angus," she teased, "I think that is the very first time that you have ever admitted to being a thief!"

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?" he asked, turning another page in his book. Deirdre did a double-take. When did he grab his book from the table?

At first light, the troop saddled up with Gavin's help and rode back to Kells. No one had seen Donovan since the incident the night before. He was avoiding humiliation. Angus couldn't blame him, after what he asked him to do, he would do the same thing.

The ride back to Kells castle was a silent one. Only Angus, Lynette, and Garret knew what truly happened. Everyone was confused, yet still somewhat pleased with the progress of the past few days. Donovan seemed unstable, yes, but he opened the doors to quite a few exciting possibilities for the future. Ivar was thinking of ways to improve Donovan's program, and Lynnette and her husband were thinking of ways to peep into Donovan's secret past. Deirdre just mulled over the entire incident.

But one knight was more silent than usual. Something was still troubling Angus. It was Donovan's eyes. They were filled with so many emotions. They seemed to radiate pain, hope, and trust all at the same time. Something was familiar about those blue eyes to Angus, but for the life of him, he could not remember why they stirred him. Blue eyes were not very uncommon in Kells, so he knew that wasn't it, and he had seen painful emotions in people's eyes before. He was thinking about these things to the extent that it almost didn't register that they were all back in the castle and he should be dismounting at that moment.

Rohan had holed himself up in his sanctuary the next three days, locking the door. Gavin was busy overseeing the training grounds and other daily necessities, and had very little time to bang on the door insisting he come out and eat something. Rohan would stare off into space, wondering at what exact moment in time and space that his life had thrown him into this reality. When did he first think of killing himself? He tried to figure out what possessed him to almost give up his secret in order to commit suicide.

Well, technically it couldn't be called suicide when he asked someone to do it for him, he figured, but for all intents and purposes, it really was. He realized that seeing his best friend Angus in such bad shape must have somehow moved him to do it. He was quite shocked to see his childhood friend with a straggly beard and hollow eyes. He must not have been getting good enough sleep. He wished that he knew a way to tell Angus everything, and still carryout his plan. Gods, he wish he could tell _everyone_ and still have the courage to go through with it. Everyone but Deirdre, that is. He would die to keep that secret from her. He felt more ashamed than anything when it came to her. He had an overwhelming sense of guilt whenever her saw her. In some ways, he felt that no matter what he did, he would always let her down.

Well, he wouldn't let her down by not helping her in his final days, he decided, slowly rising to his feet. After one last look at the sword cabinet that held the weapon of the Mystic Knight of Fire, he headed toward the kitchens. He needed to eat, and then work hard on his training program. He would have the people ready for her when she ruled the united island.

* * *

Note: Once again, sorry for the delay! I've moved, moved a friend, started a new job, started new college classes, and other distractions. Keep bugging me if I am overdue for an update! It'll keep me motivated!

A sidenote on the story: this chapter is a bit more upbeat. I figured that with all the angst and other ruckus of previous chapters, we could use a bit of humour.


	15. The Challenge

**Chapter Fifteen: The Challenge  
**

A few months went by, and the knights were terribly bored. After all the excitement in Temra, everyday life in Kells just seemed to crawl along at a snail's pace. With Garret and Lynnette away for a visit back home, the castle was too quiet for anyone's tastes. It was amazing how loud the two could get with their playful banter and occasional bickering. Deirdre was jealous. She was happy for her two friends, yes, but felt sorry for herself. She would often daydream about what her life would have been like if it wasn't for the Ancient Scroll. And to her dismay, those thoughts always seemed to be centered around a certain red-headed man.

It was a little over three years since Rohan left on the Night of Victory, and only a few months since Donovan told Deirdre than Rohan had loved her. 'Had'...what an awful thought! No one really knew if he was dead, but he had plenty of time to return home since then. Deirdre always wondered why he hasn't returned if he was still alive. Was it something she did? No, it couldn't have been. She didn't scare him off with any proclamations of love, but it _was_ somewhat implied. She was almost positive that no one had done anything to alienate him.

Deirdre sighed and leaned back against the tree. She hated being in the castle when it was so untroubled. She silently chuckled at this revelation. She was actually _happier_ when life was hectic with Maeve's ongoing invasions. At least back then, she knew who she was fighting. Now, the only one left to fight was herself and her ever growing feelings for a man that would never return to her.

Ivar and Angus, on the other hand, decided to do something about the dull atmosphere instead of stew over it. They left Deirdre to work with her father, and saddled their horses for Temra.

"Tell me again, Angus." asked Ivar. "Why are we going to Temra?"

Angus slowed his horse to a trot and allowed Ivar's horse to catch back up with him. "As troubled as Donovan is, at least he is less of a bore than Deirdre. Especially when she gets in her...moods."

Ivar had to nod his agreement at that. "You cannot blame her for being sad, Angus. We all miss Rohan..."

"Do not tell ME how much I miss Rohan! I know how much I long to see my best friend! I knew him a LOT longer than all of you, and..." Angus turned his head away. "I'm sorry, Ivar. I did not mean to snap at you. It's just..."

"I know, Angus. I know. He was more than a friend to you, he was your only family."

Angus looked over at the prince, shaking his head in amusement. "Someday, you must tell me how to do that, Ivar."

"Do what?"

"You always seem to have people pegged. You know _exactly_ what they are thinking. It's sort of scary sometimes, to be honest."

Ivar smiled. "It's surprising what one can learn from keeping his mouth shut." he mocked.

Angus kicked him off his horse.

Donovan was out training with the troops. The weather was starting to get warmer as summer grew near, so he was only dressed in a red tunic along with his gloves and mask. This batch of young men had been working hard, and were close to the end of the program.

"Good, Kendrick! You've been working on your parry, I can tell!" Donovan then pivoted and swirled around him, blocking a blow, and pointing his sword at the boy's neck.

"But you still need to work on that footwork, my boy!" he said, sheathing his sword.

"Yes, my King. I have quite a bit left to learn from you!" he panted. It was unreal how much energy Donovan had. No one seemed to be able to keep up with him in the tests. Not a single person had landed a blow, and not for lack of trying!

"May we take a try, your majesty?"

Donovan turned to see Ivar and Angus ride up beside him and dismount.

"Ah! Ivar and Angus! Good to see you both again! What brings you here today? Not that you aren't welcome, of course..."

Angus spoke up. "Honestly? We were bored. We had hoped to join your training today and limber up."

"Of course! Come! Let's get you some partners...let me see...Ah! Here we are. Kimball! Anwell! Front and center!" Two men jogged up to them and bowed.

Donovan introduced them. "You four ought to be pretty well matched, I'd imagine. Kimball and Anwell are two of my best students when it comes to dueling with a blade!"

Anwell bowed, "Thank you for your praise, my king."

"Don't thank me just yet," Donovan said, waving a hand at them. "Ivar and Angus should give you a run for your money, I'm sure!"

He stood off to the side as the four dueled it out in front of the group. Wow. Angus sure had improved a lot since Rohan saw him fight last. He seemed more focused, and intense. Anwell was quickly defeated by Angus, whereas it took Ivar longer to disarm Kimball. They switched partners and started again. Rohan had the advantage of watching the two and seeing just how much their styles had changed over the past couple of years. Angus was much more aggressive and confident than he remembered. After a few minutes, both trainees were left defeated and breathless.

"You held up surprisingly well, considering I've seen far more battles than you!" encouraged a sweaty Angus.

"Thank you, Sir!" Smiled Kimball. They all shook hands and walked back up to the castle for a long rest.

"Quite impressive, you two!" Said Donovan. Ivar thanked him.

"Just wait until tomorrow," said Angus, "Then we'll _really_ show you some tricks!"

Donovan smirked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was a challenge."

Angus stopped. "Alright then, let's make a deal. In two days, we'll face each other. Whoever wins, has to..." he fingered his beard in thought.

"Well," said Donovan, "If I win, you must shave off that awful beard! It's not very becoming..."

"Not very becoming?!?" he asked, somewhat taken aback. Ivar started to snicker. "Alright! Fine! I'll shave it off! But if I win, you have to take over my chores for a day back in Kells!!"

"And what chores are those?" asked a curious Donovan.

"Why, checking the stock of the armory and re-sharpening the weapons by hand!" he exclaimed.

"Is that all?" he asked, already shaking Angus's hand in agreement.

"Yes, and cleaning out the horse stalls." he added.

Ivar held his sides in laughter as Donovan ran after the little sneak.

* * *

Note: Thank you all for reviewing and keeping me motivated. No excuses from me this time, I've just been extremely lazy:-) 

I DO plan on finishing this story, by all means necessary, so fear not. I just want to take the time to make it _right_.


	16. Is It Sharp Enough?

**Chapter Sixteen: Is It Sharp Enough?**

Two days later, Ivar fetched a mopey Deirdre from Kells and filled her in on Angus's challenge on their way toward Temra Castle. Her spirits lifted a bit at the prospect of some much needed excitement. She was quite anxious to see both King Donovan's skill and Angus falling on his arse. Hopefully, she thought, a nice combination of both.

It had been a very long time since Angus was bested in a fight. When Rohan left, along with Ivar and Garret soon after for some overseas visiting, only Deirdre and Angus were left in Kells. Angus saw it as a sign that he was meant to take over as the protector of Kells. But even more important, a protector of Princess Deirdre. Angus knew that Rohan would kill him if he ever let anything happen to the Princess, and thinking that he would one day return to marry her, he kept a sharp eye--and sharp sword--out for any trouble. He had gotten quite proficient at sword play, which was good since he had absolutely no skill with a sword back when they were fighting Maeve. But now, he was confident (if not overconfident) with his abilities.

Ivar and Deirdre were the last to arrive in Temra. Seating was made against a hillside so that all the warriors-in-training as well as the other Mystic Knights all had a good view of the oncoming action at the bottom of the hill. Taking her seat next to Lynette on the front row, Deirdre surveyed the playing field.

Both Donovan and Angus were stretching. Angus was dressed in bronze armor, but Donovan was dressed in just his red tunic without his leather chest-plate. There was a ring of red cloth suspended on wooden poles around the two men. Deirdre guessed that the ring marked the boundaries of the match. Suddenly, the crowd was silent as the two men approached each other in the center of the cloth-bound circle.

Angus looked at Donovan with confusion in his eyes. He gestured to Donovan's belt, "Where is your sword?" Smirking behind his silver mask, Rohan answered, "We are not using swords, Sir Angus."

"Huh?" he asked.

Rohan turned to address the crowd. "You are all here to witness the challenge made upon me by Sir Angus of Kells. He challenged me this day to fight him in a one-on-one match. As tradition indicates, he initiated the challenge and chose the time in which it is taking place; therefore, it is my right to decide the place and method of the battle. As you can all see, I have set up this area enclosed with the red cloth as the place of action." He turned to Angus and smiled at his dawning realization. "I choose hand to hand combat!" he yelled at the crowd.

There arose a great cheer from the crowd, mainly from Donovan's cadets. Some were stomping their feet and waving their arms. It was one thing to be trained by King Donovan, it was quite another to see him in action!

Garret groaned. "Please tell me that Angus was not banking on King Donovan choosing a sword!"

"Then I shall remain silent..." replied an amused Ivar.

Lynette and Deirdre shared a knowing look before trying to stifle their laughter.

Rohan addressed Angus formally, "And who do you choose as judge for the competition, Sir Angus?"

Angus was barely listening. He was busy taking off his armor. In all his excitement over the coming match, he had forgotten that King Donovan got to choose the means of the fight since he himself initiated the original challenge.

"I choose Prince Ivar as judge of this duel!" he shouted.

He knew he was at a disadvantage. Donovan was well built and disciplined. Angus would have to rely on speed and cunning to beat him. At least he knew than Ivar would be a fair judge.

Ivar made his way down to the center of the ring and talked with Angus and Donovan in hushed tones. Then he faced the multitude of shouting guests. "The stakes are as follows: Should Sir Angus win, King Donovan will replace Angus for tomorrow's duties in Kells of the checking of the armory inventory, the sharpening of dull blades, and the de-mucking of the horse stalls!"

Deirdre looked around her as some of the people booed at Angus. She spied many of Donovan's men as the perpetrators.

"And should King Donovan of Temra be the victor," continued Ivar, "Sir Angus will have his beard shaved off by the King himself!"

Expecting the crowd to all cheer in response to this, Deirdre was surprised to see a group of women on the sidelines hissing and jeering at Donovan and his supporters. Apparently, some woman liked the rugged caveman look, she decided.

Ivar stood out of the way as the two opponents shook hands on the terms. Then they were both instantly in battle.

Rohan made to grab Angus around the shoulder blades, but he dodged and landed a blow to Rohan's side. Without a sound, Rohan recovered and snatched his foot and gave a hard twist. Angus landed face-down on the grass and rolled over just in time to see Rohan hit the ground right where he was lying. Seeing an advantage, Angus leapt atop him and elbowed him sharply in the stomach. With a muffled "oomph," Rohan tried to dislodge the thief from him.

The crowd was shouting encouragements to both of them as they fought. They were so loud, that Lynette barely heard Deirdre's muttered comment about "boys" and "mud-wrestling."

Now back on their feet, the men were exchanging punches. It was easy to see that they were well matched, for Angus was quick with the blows, but Donovan's were more powerful.

Angus punched Donovan right in the face and pulled his fist back howling in pain.

"You would think that a Mystic Knight would be smart enough _not_ to strike metal with his bare hands," Rohan taunted, "but then again, Angus was never known for his brains."

Enraged, Angus made to knee him in the groin. Rohan easily blocked and pushed him back.

"Careful Angus, anger is more of an enemy than an ally. If you do not control it, it will control you."

"Stop talking and fight, you spineless coward!"

Rohan's eyes flashed dangerously. "Coward?!" he growled.

It was enough. The distraction allowed Angus to land two punches to his ribs and kick him upside the head. Rohan grumbled. _That_ had been stupid on his part! Even as kids, Angus knew just what to say to rile him up. He should have cheated and used earplugs from behind his mask.

Rohan stumbled from the kick to his head, but recovered.

What was initially thought as a short, yet exciting battle of strength, became a long and sweaty battle of endurance. Ivar was tired just by watching it! He was sure that the two men would have quite the collection of bruises and injuries by the end of the match!

It finally ended an half an hour later with Rohan miraculously tripping Angus out of the circle. Angus would have grumbled to Ivar that it was unfair, but he was too tired to continue on anyway.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he accepted Donovan's hand to get back on his feet.

"Never thought it would take that long." Said a weary Donovan.

"Never thought I would sweat this much." Grumbled an equally tired Angus.

"Just try wearing a metal mask with little-to-no breathing room in the middle of summer."

Later, after the two men bathed and dressed, everyone was gathered in Temra's main hall, enjoying a make-shift feast put together by Gavin. All the audience members were engrossed in conversation and enjoying themselves.

Except Angus and Donovan.

Angus was modeling a eye-patch made of bloody meat, and Donovan was trying to remain as dignified as possible, despite his limping.

After the chatter had died down, Donovan raised his hands for silence. "If Angus would please make his way up to the dais, we can begin the sheep shearing ceremony!"

Angus made to have a go at him, but quickly changed his mind and nursed his sore shoulder. He sat stiffly in the chair on the stage, muttering under his breath the whole way up.

Gavin presented the masked king with a razor and a gooey paste.

"Let's get this over with!" said Angus.

"At least you won't have to deal with the heat of an itchy beard any longer, Angus!" shouted Deirdre, saluting him with a glass of wine in her hand and a smirk on her face.

"At least I have my own house away from the castle where I don't have to deal with your incessantly annoying sharp wit any longer, Deirdre!" he replied under his breathe. "OUCH!"

Donovan did not seem to be apologetic as the blade slipped in his hand.

"Is _that_ sharp enough for you, Angus?"

* * *

Note: The only reason I posted again so quickly was because of the quick response of my faithful reviewers, thank you! I took me all day to write this thing. I hate fight sequences! I can film it and act it out, but I can never write it down! Oh well, I gave it my best shot.

Expect the story to get a little bit more serious again sometime soon. I may have to change the rating eventually.


	17. Conversations

**Chapter Seventeen: Conversations**

After Angus and Donovan's "battle of brawn," the knights decided to remain in Temra for the time being. Mostly because Donovan asked them to. Ivar had a feeling that Angus did a number on his ribs, and that he was unable to train with his recruits. And he would be right in that regard, for Rohan could hardly move without being in pain. A healer had informed him that he sustained two cracked ribs to go along with the yellow and purple bruises all around his chest. He remained in bed for almost a week. Angus, however, healed quickly and was soon helping out where he could. But after those seven days passed, Rohan decided that it was time to keep up with appearances, despite the pain. He took a quick look under his bandages and was not surprised to see absolutely no change in his injuries. After taking the healer's weak pain draught, he slowly donned a red tunic and cloak and wandered outside.

Deirdre had taken it upon herself to lead the physical aspect of the program in Donovan's absence, Ivar volunteering for the more intellectually aimed classes. Angus spent most of his days with Ivar because he could not stand to be around the red-headed princess. She made a point to tease him on his smooth face and not-so-smooth defeat. Deciding it was not a good idea to murder the future ruler of the Island, he wisely chose to spend his days in the library.

It was here that Donovan first ran into his defeated counterpart.

Opening the door, Rohan saw that the library was deserted, minus his best friend. By the looks of things, he had become quite the bookworm. There were was a small mountain of books balancing precariously on a table littered with parchment and ink bottles.

"I must say, you look much more sophisticated without the beard, Angus, or perhaps its just all the books and scrolls piled around you."

Angus looked up from his work. "So, Donovan. Decided to come kick the dead dog some more?"

Rohan pulled up a chair and gingerly lowered himself into it. "No, just coming to see what you were up to is all."

Angus looked over his masked companion. "Are you alright? You seem to be a little...stiff." he asked.

Rohan laughed before moaning and clutching his chest. "No, I'm not alright. You did quite a number on my ribs! I'm still sore and bruised."

Standing up and turning around to place a book back on its shelf, Angus avoided making eye contact with the king. "But you won't get well, will you?" he asked stoically.

"Why do you ask that?" Rohan replied.

Angus swirled to face him. "Don't play dumb! What do you think I've been doing? Reading fairy tales?!" he spat. "I've been studying every text you have on the history of this isle and the mysticism associated with the ancient scroll. I've concluded that it is more literal than anyone could imagine!"

He grabbed the arms of Rohan's chair and starred him down. "Ever since you signed that parchment, you signed your life away, everyone knows that. But what they don't know is that you are unable to heal any injury to your person. Am I right?"

Silence.

"Am I right??" he demanded.

"You are correct." he whispered.

Angus put a palm to his forehead in alarm. Rohan could easily see that this new information troubled him. Deep down he wanted to tell Angus everything. He was the only one here. It would be so...easy. But wanting to spare him as much pain as possible, he held his tongue.

"You haven't told anyone."

It wasn't a question.

"No," Rohan said, "only Gavin knows the whole truth."

Angus looked up. There was anguish in his eyes. "Have I signed your death with the duel?"

Oh Angus, smiled Rohan. Still the same caring man underneath the thief. "No. It will take a lot more than a few punches to kill me. My bruises will not heal, but that is the extent of the damage. But if I were to bleed, no salve or bandage could stop the blood from flowing. I know how I will die, I've known for a long time. I will slowly bleed to death until I draw my last breath." Despite the fact that he knew and finally voiced it to one of his old friends from his former life, Rohan was strangely calm. Brutal, though his situation was, he would face it with dignity.

He was rewarded with an incredulous look from the knight. "If you knew all this, then why, _why_ do you fight with your men? Why do you risk your life around all the weapons and careless people? Why not stay in the castle where you are safe?"

Slowly and painfully, Rohan stood and placed his hand on Angus's shoulder.

"Because," he replied, "a life living in fear is no life at all. It is a prison to the mind and body. A man cannot truly live, until he is able to face his own death."

He left Angus to his thoughts.

At sundown, Rohan was sitting under a willow tree at the top of a cliff overlooking the western ocean. He had taken to wearing his full royal armor and regalia to help stabilize him after his injuries. It was the cracked ribs that really got to him. After exercising for a while, the pressure from his lungs trying to draw a panting breath would force his damaged ribs to shift, causing him great pain. He rarely helped in the training of the troops anymore. He knew they were ready anyway. They passed his expectations many times over. Perhaps it was time to congratulate them and send them on their way. King Conchobar was anxious to see the project's completion.

"May I join you, Donovan?"

Rohan turned. Deirdre was standing there with her crossbow slung on her back, sweat glistening in the fading sunlight. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

"As you wish." he said, uncomfortably.

She sat beside him, knees drawn into her chest. They both sat in silence, enjoying the colorful show that nature provided as the sun set on the water's horizon. Deirdre was the first to break the stillness.

"Are you afraid?" she whispered.

There was no need to ask what she was referring to.

"I used to be. I was scared out of my wits, but not anymore."

"Why not?"

He pointed to the scene before them.

"You see that sunset?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I think death is like the sunset. We cannot see beyond the horizon, but that does not mean that the sun does not exist behind it."

"Does this mean you believe in the afterlife?" she wondered.

Rohan thought about it for a moment. "I don't know." he finally said.

"You think the gods exist though, right?"

"How can one sit here and see the world's pure, miraculous beauty, and not believe?" he asked.

Deirdre sat pensively for a moment. She then turned a nervous face to him again.

"May I ask you a somewhat personal question?" she said, tentatively.

"Of course."

"Is there another woman you left somewhere out there? Is that why you have refused to marry me?"

Rohan sighed. Her inquisitive nature was one thing he knew he would have trouble with.

"I do not wish to force your hand. No one should be forced into marriage."

"That was not my question." she insisted.

Rohan stood and turned his back to her, looking at the stars slowly start to appear in the sky above. She wouldn't rest until she had an answer, but he could not bring himself to look at her while giving one. His heart was heavily burdened thinking about the past.

"There was a woman I knew once. Beautiful in every regard: mind, body, and spirit. But most of all, she radiated a kindness about her that had no equal. I have loved her since my youth, but never told her of my true feelings. I was unworthy of her in every way. Even when I found out that I was a king, I was still unworthy of her. I will never know her love, but knowing her was enough. To be a part of her world, even for that brief moment, has made my life worth living."

Deirdre placed a comforting hand on his arm. "I know how you feel. I have loved and lost as well."

Rohan turned to her, searching her eyes for a sign of recognition. But she was still unaware of his identity. His eyes softened as she sat back on the grass and began to recount her story.

"He was an orphan. My father's druid took him off the street as his apprentice. He was a horrible apprentice!" she said smiling. "He gravitated more toward fighting off invisible dragons in the castle. I used to spy on him until my father caught me. When I was sixteen, the druid revealed the link between the ancient scroll and his strange birthmark. We set across to the fairy lands with Angus and Ivar to retrieve our Mystic Weapons. He led us into battle against Maeve multiple times. He..." she stopped, trying to control her breathing.

Rohan could not believe his ears. Was this true? Was she really talking about him? His heart was aching in his chest. He wanted to gather her in his arms, rip off the mask and comfort his love. But...he had to know for sure.

"You are talking of...Rohan...are you not?" he whispered.

She nodded. "And I never got the chance. _We_ never got the chance. I miss him _so_ much..." she cried.

He placed an arm around her an patted her shoulder, trying to comfort her at a safe distance. She turned into his chest fully and sobbed against him. Rohan's chest was tight with emotion, his ribs straining against the ache there.

When she finally quieted down, he reluctantly broke the contact. She apologized for making him uncomfortable and stood up, drying her tears. He wanted to say that it was alright, but he couldn't get the words out.

She forced a smile up at him and changed the subject. "It looks like your training has paid off, the men look ready for anything!" she commented.

Rohan nodded. "Yes, I am quite proud of them. I hope you found this helpful for your...future." he said.

She dipped her head. "Yes, very much, thank you! I appreciate everything you have done for us all."

"It was nothing." he replied.

Deirdre fingered her crossbow and grinned. "Is it true, what all the men are saying?"

Rohan looked confused. "What?"

"Your men say that you have never been beaten in a training session." she smirked impishly.

He nodded. "It is truth."

Deirdre turned up her nose. "Well then, we cannot send them on their way without them witnessing the defeat of a noble king! It's to be expected to happen eventually. So I challenge you to a battle of steel. You may choose when and where." she challenged, folding her arms across her chest.

Oh no, he groaned. Not another one! Was he going to have to do this with _every_ blasted knight? Probably so, he mussed. Sighing, he agreed. She quickly ran off to tell Angus and the others.

"There will be no living with any of them after this, should I lose." he said aloud.

"You got that right!" said an approaching Garret and Lynnette.

She looked at Donovan and sized him up. "With that limp, King Donovan, I'll bet she'll make a loser out of you!" she teased. Garrett just laughed and said, "I wouldn't be to sure, Lynnette. I'll bet he has a few tricks up his sleeves." he winked. _You have no idea_, Rohan thought.

He only hoped that the wager would not be for anything too embarrassing. Win or lose, he was considering revealing himself afterwards. If what Deirdre said was true, he might still have a chance. Of course, she would be stark-raving mad at him for months because of his deception. He would have to think through this very carefully.

Angus ran up the hill accompanied by Ivar.

"We just heard the lovely news!" gushed an excited Angus. "And our dear Princess Deirdre bid me to let you know of her gracious wager if you give her yours."

Rohan thought carefully. He scratched the underside of his chin thoughtfully. Snapping his fingers in success, he answered quickly. "If she loses, Princess Deirdre will have to reorganize my entire library alphabetically. The recruits really messed it up last night after their last written exam."

Ivar winced. That would take days! Poor Deirdre! He hoped that she had the strength and speed to beat him.

Angus grinned, "No problem, Princess Deirdre wishes that if she wins, the...ah..._loser_...that's you," he said pointing to Donovan, "Will be designing and sewing her a new gown for the fall banquet this year under her _strict_ supervision."

Everyone laughed but Rohan.

Good gods! If he didn't win this contest, he really _might_ just commit suicide to spare himself the agony! If onemore knight challenges him to a duel, by Dagda, he'll tell them to go jump off a cliff!

* * *

Note: See? I _told_ you updates happen when a lot of people review! You really are too kind! And for those of you that have given me suggestions, THANK YOU!!! I was stuck on how to introduce something that had to happen, but thanks to "the new dawn" and "Sweetsas," I was able to tweak out a solution. This chapter could not have been as good as it was (or written as fast) without their input. Everyone say, "Thank you!"

08.14.07: resubmitted to website after fixing spelling errors


	18. Swords and Stretches

**Chapter Eighteen: Swords and Stretches**

Everyone on the island was excited about the oncoming duel, even more so than the first one involving the mysterious king. He was revered as a mighty warrior by all the troops. All of the men in the training program were looking forward to seeing him duel with the princess. Unknown to Rohan, there was an great exchange in money between them, betting on the winner. It would come as no surprise to Rohan, however, that Angus himself had placed a few lofty bets in the pool. Betting in favor of Deirdre, of course. After all, he thought, Donovan was strong and talented, but when Deirdre was upset or incredibly determined, she was just plain scary!

Gavin was also looking forward to the fight. But at the same time, he thought Rohan could have waited until a more appropriate time to "engage" his secret love. He was already planning a feast afterwards for the knights, but because of the end of Rohan's training program, he had to make sure extra food was prepared. Deciding it would be easier to hold one giant meal instead of two different ones in the same day, he still had his work cut out for him. He was in charge of orchestrating enough food for the knights and all those in the program, not to mention the entertainment! While Gavin was not as old as Cathbad, he was still well into his years. All this excitement was starting to wear at him. His only saving grace was that after the feast, the men would be done living at the castle, and then he could focus more on nudging Rohan and Deirdre together instead of feeding mouths.

Rohan woke up early the day of the fight to see Angus waiting for him in the throne room. He took one look at Angus and nearly snapped his neck back by the force of his double-take.

"What in the name-of-all-that-is-holy is that _eyesore_!" he snarled.

Angus smiled and plopped a large wad of different colored cloths in his lap.

"Deirdre sends her thanks for agreeing to give her aid with her new dress. These are some samples of cloth that she wanted me to give you to look through in preparation."

He couldn't help but snicker at the king's obvious discomfort. There were some very hideous colors in that bundle, everywhere from a murky brown to a very unattractive puce. Although the whole thing was funny to watch, Angus knew why it was even more laughable. Deirdre never sent these pieces over. He gathered them himself to tease Donovan. A good thing it was too, because he could almost see the armor-clad king shrudder at the revolting hue in his lap.

Rohan could almost feel his eyes start to burn at the obnoxious colors and hideously coarse fabrics. He couldn't help but think that it looked like someone had gotten ill all over his tunic. Surely she was only teasing him! After all, she _had_ to have better style than all this rubbish!

He gathered it in his arms and dumped it unceremoniously in a chest on the far side of the room. After all, he thought, no need to think on this unless he actually lost to Deirdre first. And after seeing all of that, he was determined for that not to happen!

He turned to Angus. "Enough of that! She hasn't even won yet. A bit overconfident, is she?"

Angus just continued to snicker behind his palm.

Rolling his eyes, Rohan walked past him toward the castle courtyard. Let him control himself before even attempting to communication with the delinquent!

Angus finally managed to tamper down his amusement and follow Donovan outside.

"So you've decided on a place then, have you?" he asked, jogging to catch up.

Motioning ahead of him, Rohan replied. "Just over there. It might look familiar..." he drawled.

Angus looked out past the gate. Indeed it did look familiar. It was the exact same place where the two of them fought before. Even the seating arrangements were still there. But...

"What is all that junk across the grass? Using it as a combination fighting arena and dump?" he asked.

"No, I decided that the princess could use a bit of a challenge. The wooden walls and stone boulders will be obstacles. Just a little something to make it more interesting and, shall we say, entertaining...will you stop following me around like a lost puppy! You are driving me mad!"

The thief leapt up onto one of the shorter wooden barriers and chomped on an apple from his pocket as the king glared up at him.

"Sorry I make you nervous, but there really is nothing to be worried about...you're not my type, after all..."

Angus narrowly dodged a clump of dirt sailing past his head.

"Oh come on, Donovan! I'm only joking! Besides, I really do have news from Kells for you."

"Well out with it then! I'm busy and I don't have all day!" Rohan grumbled.

Angus took another bite of his apple, chewing unnaturally slow. He decided to comply when Donovan reached down for another clump of dirt that looked suspiciously more like a rock.

"Alright, alright! No need to get all violent on me! I'm just the messenger!" he said holding up his hands in surrender. He looked down at the king thoughtfully.

"The fight will not be using steel swords. You and Deirdre are to use wooden practice swords."

Rohan rolled his eyes in disgust. "Whose idea was that? Yours?"

"In a way, yes."

Rohan narrowed his eyes up at him. "So you're not just the messenger, are you? You are also the instigator!" he accused.

"Not true! I just happened to mention the, ah...challenge...to King Conchobar last night. He insists that wooden swords be used so that his precious daughter would not be hurt." he tossed the apple core over his shoulder. "I'm only trying to help you out you know."

"How?!" he demanded. "By making me look like a coward in front everyone?"

Turning a troubled frown to his companion, he jumped off the wall and stood face to face with Donovan.

"No! By making sure you won't get yourself killed, you fool! Or have you forgotten that I know your little secret!"

"You really have no _idea_ of my secrets, Angus." he replied.

Angus stalked off toward his horse. He yelled back over his shoulder, "Well at least this way, you'll be alive long enough for me to figure them out!"

Rohan turned back to the makeshift arena. He didn't have time to deal with Angus's temper tantrums. He had work to do.

Early that same morning, Deirdre was stretching by the western cliffs near Donovan's castle. She really didn't know what to call it since Donovan arrived. It obviously was not "Temra" anymore, but it was not yet a part of Kells either. She heard two men at the sparring grounds refer to it as "castle tèarmunn." She pondered all these names in her head while sitting on the sand and reaching out to touch her bare toes.

Kells always used a hawk as their symbol--keen, sharp-eyed and intelligent creatures. She smiled and thought of her father, ever working to better the kingdom. When Maeve was around, it seemed like he was always looking out for any tricks up her sleeve. If anyone was to be named "king of hawks," King Conchobar would easily fit the description. Temra's seal was strange--three sharp, black spikes. Moving to do a few push ups, she couldn't help but think that the symbol was a direct extension of the late queen herself. Both were unnatural, cold, and abrasive.

Deidre walked to the boulder where she placed her things. After taking a long drink of cold water, she wiped the sweat from her brow with a soft blanket she brought with her from the guest chambers. Like everything in Donovan's castle, it held the emblem of the red dragon, woven tightly into the white fabric. Ironic, she thought, that a man seemingly so calm and collected would choose a fire-breathing menace for his insignia. Well, she chuckled, it would be terrible if he chose something like a fluffy white rabbit! He would get absolutely no respect from anyone!

She stuffed all her things in her muslin bag and heaved it over her shoulders. It was time to go drop these things off in her room and prepare for the challenge later in the afternoon. Walking around to the steep path between the cliffs, she headed back to the castle. "Castle tèarmunn"...one thing was for sure, it had been a place of sanctuary for her at least. She felt a small pang of loneliness at the thought of going back to Kells soon. She missed her father's company, but here, she felt safe and secure. Of course she would never admit that part of those feelings had to do with the castle's master.

* * *

Note: Almost missed my own self-impossed deadline! Fear not, more to come. Just have to get it all out of my head and onto paper...er...into computer. Review please and keep me on task! 


	19. Melee and Mayhem

**Chapter Nineteen: Melee and Mayhem**

The makeshift arena was packed. The sun was shining down hard upon all the many observers making them hot and sweaty in their anticipation for the entertainment to begin. Deirdre was sitting next to Lynette on the front row. The two women were chatting while waiting for Donovan to arrive. Ivar and Garrett were deep in conversation as well, pointing at all the different obstacles that Donovan had set up. Angus was leaning against the castle wall near the gate. He decided to wait for Donovan and walk down with him. They weren't friends exactly, but enjoyed each other's company all the same. Well, Angus enjoyed teasing Donovan, and the king merely tolerated the thief. But overall, they were comfortable in each other's presence.

Angus looked down at all the hubbub in the arena. He wondered if anyone besides him knew of Donovan's delicate condition. Probably not. If it weren't for his big mouth, Angus knew that the chances of Donovan getting injured in this challenge would have been high. Good thing he blabbed to King Conchobar yesterday. The only thing Donovan was in danger of now was a couple of bruises, both bodily and to his ego.

Donovan walked outside to find Angus waiting for him. Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to him and joined him in eying the spectators down below.

"You ready?" asked the Kellsman.

"As ready as I'll ever be." he replied.

Angus looked over at him. "Why are you wearing all that metal armor? I told you King Conchobar insisted..."

"...on us using practice swords...I know! This is just for me to wear down there. I'll take it off when we are about to fight."

Angus grinned. "Planning to strip down for the Princess then, eh? You cheeky devil you!"

Rohan punched him in the arm. "Of course not!"

Rubbing his arm, Angus frowned at him. "I was just kidding, you didn't have to hit me. That hurt!"

"Just as I suspected then, once a wimp, always a wimp!"

Angus lifted a questioning eyebrow. "You haven't known me that long. What makes you think that?"

Rohan just shrugged. "I fought you, didn't I?"

And with that, the king started to make his way down to the arena, a pensive Angus walking behind him.

Cheers filled the stadium at King Donovan's arrival. Deirdre, hearing the commotion, looked up from her conversation to see the armor clad man approaching. She had to admit that he made a pretty stunning figure. She blushed slightly. Why would she be thinking this? She should really be concentrating more on kicking his royal arse!

She entered the cloth-bound area and met Donovan in its center.

Rohan stared down at her. "Are you prepared?" he asked.

"The question is," she corrected, "have you practiced your backstitching?"

Inwardly, Rohan groaned. What a mouth she had! He suddenly turned and walked to the edge of the boundaries and carefully stripped out of his armor. He needed to concentrate on this challenge, not memories of the past. This was going to be hard enough to do, sore as he was. But fighting Deirdre? How could he have been stupid enough to accept! She distracts so easily! Mentally preparing himself to think of her as nothing but one of his recruits, he strode back over to her side as she started to address the crowd.

"First of all, let me offer my congratulations to all the recruits for finishing the experimental training program!"

She had to pause in her speech to allow the applause to die down. She could hear cheers of joy from the satisfied men, and what sounded suspiciously like cheers of, "Donovan dominates."

Lynette heard them as well. That wasn't fair! What about Deirdre? She turned and nodded to some of the women sitting near her. As one, they all started to shout "Deirdre's not as buff, but she's twice as strong and tough!"

Deirdre shot her a disapproving glare that sent the women into a gale of laughter. Garrett grinned and nodded to Ivar, "That's my wife!"

Ivar just turned back to the proceedings. "Obvious that you two were made for each other..." he muttered.

Donovan smiled at all the excitement. It was nice to have people backing him. He just hoped he wouldn't let them down. He also heard Lynette's little catcall. Forget him, Deirdre was going to kill _her_! He finally had enough of the noise and motioned for silence. Deirdre nodded her thanks and continued.

"I have challenged Donovan to a fight of steel. In return, he has chosen this time and place to fulfill this task. Donovan?"

"Thank you, your Highness. The area is enclosed, as before, with the red cloth. Any combatant that crosses this boundary is judged to be automatically defeated. Because of her royal blood, His Majesty King Conchobar insists that wooden practice swords be used."

The graduates booed in disappointment. Rohan pushed on.

"The wooden walls and stone boulders can be used for almost anything, at the discretion of the appointed judge. Princess Deirdre, whom do you appoint as judge of this competition?"

Deirdre smiled mischievously. "I choose Angus of Kells as judge of this duel!"

Angus's eyes went wide. "Me? You want me to judge?!?"

She rolled her eyes, "Is there an echo?"

Straightening his tunic and trying to look as dignified as possible, Angus strode over to the two. Cheers went up from the "gambling" section of the crowd. Angus saluted them roguishly as he made his way forward. Rohan was severely tempted to trip him, but fought back the urge.

Deirdre turned a questioning gaze at Donovan. "I meant to ask you, why don't you ever just call me by my name? It's always "Princess this" and "your Majesty" that."

"Because," he said, "anything else would be showing you a lack of respect."

"I don't think that's it." she replied. "I call you Donovan all the time, and I still have a great respect for you!"

"We'll see how long that respect lasts after I defeat you, Princess Deirdre." he teased.

"It's just Deirdre!" she scowled. "And I will be the one to win this challenge!"

"As you say, your Highness." he said, bowing to her and handing her a long wooden sword.

Deirdre took the offered sword and placed the blunt tip to the back of Donovan's bowed head.

"Rule number one; never lower your eyes to your enemy." she mocked.

Still bowed, he chuckled at her teasing. If that was how she wanted to play, he could give as good as he got!

"As you say, your Majesty."

In the blink of an eye, Rohan had twisted his head away from the tip of her blade and brought his own up to parry her feeble swing.

"Rule two," he said, "never under-estimate your opponent."

And with that, they were off.

Rohan let her take the aggressive lead, and concentrated on watching her eyes as she tried to force him back toward a tall barrier. He knew what she was doing, of course, but made no effort to stop her.

As they neared the wall, Deirdre grew more confident and started to thrust her sword out in more daring moves. Rohan blocked them with ease and used his long legs to try and trip her. He looped his foot out and pulled back with his leg right on the back of Deirdre's left knee. Deirdre was surprised at this move and had to shift all her weight over to her right leg to keep from falling down. As a result, she spun around and switched places with Rohan. He then sped up his attack until her back was flat against the wall.

Deirdre saw what was happening, but was powerless to stop it. Rohan blocked her desperate swipe, forcing their swords over their heads to clunk against the wall. He wasted no time and grabbed her other wrist and held it up above her head next to the other one. Hands trapped, and bodies locked together, she was trapped. The crowd was getting louder. Whistles, catcalls, and stomping feet were ringing in Rohan's ears, despite the steel separating them.

Rohan smirked and whispered, "Rule number three; overconfidence is the precursor to failure."

Deirdre was having a hard time paying attention with Donovan pressed up against her. For some reason, it seemed to make her heart beat a little faster. She struggled to no avail, still stuck within his grasp.

Of course Rohan was just smiling, enjoying the feel of her desperate struggle to get free. He knew that it wasn't exactly proper of him, but he was still a man after all!

Deirdre was beginning to think that it was all over too soon. Then it came to her.

She looked up at him and purred, "Rule four, exploit all available weaknesses."

Rohan shivered. The little vixen was taunting him! "What weakness?" he asked.

She just smiled up at him. "ALL weaknesses." she whispered. She then then tried to knee him in the groin.

Rohan saw her intentions a split second before, and released her, twisting away from the fatal blow. She smiled coyly and gave a little mock curtsy. The crowd was going wild.

"That was dirty!" he frowned.

Angus yelled down from the next wall over. "I say it's legal! You can thank me for that one! I taught her that move!" he said proudly. Ivar groaned. Would the man _ever_ grow up?

Donovan pointed threateningly up at Angus, "We'll talk later!" he snarled.

Deirdre looked at the king's antagonized-looking blue eyes, her own green ones sparkling with mischief. "I think we are done reciting the rules, are we not, Don?"

Rohan growled at the intended butchering of his fake name. He flexed the fingers of his left hand in a come-and-get-it motion. "Rules are meant to be broken, Majesty."

"It's Deirdre!" she hissed, charging at him, sword raised.

They continued to spar, occasionally ducking behind the walls for cover. Angus quickly learned that the walls were not safe places to hang out, even if it did give him a great vantage point. Donovan accidentally hit him in the foot with his sword. Although from the look in his eyes, it was probably planned. Angus went over to a boulder nearer the crowd since the two fighters seemed to prefer fighting around the walls. He hoped this move would keep him away from any more angry blows. He learned that boulders were not safe either, so he retreated to climb up another wall, careful to keep his feet out of range.

Lynette was ecstatic to see the tension flare between them as they fought. She hoped she could try to set them up sometime soon. They really did balance each other out--when they weren't trying to constantly trip each other. She idly wondered where Gavin was, and if she could get him in on the plan. He was probably still up at the castle preparing for the feast. It was a shame, she thought. He would enjoy this!

They had been at it awhile. Deirdre had less stamina than Donovan, and was growing exceedingly tired. Rohan wasn't doing so good himself. Although his chest was bundled up tight and he took an extra does of his healer's potions, his ribs were _really_ starting to ache. Each twist of his torso brought him pain. Looking down at Deirdre, she seemed to be hurting as well. Breathing heavily, they both paused at the same time and lowered their arms. After a minute, Deirdre brought her sword back up and started to fight again. Ivar laughed at the coordinated time-out. It was almost as if they planned it!

An hour went by, and Rohan parried a rather harsh strike. He jumped back a bit to put some space between them.

Something wasn't right.

All the hair on the back of Rohan's neck stood up.

His muscles tensed.

Deirdre lowered her arm and gazed at him, questioning his stiff posture.

"INTRUDERS!!!" screamed a man in the stands.

Rohan instinctively dived at the Princess.

"DEIRDRE! GET DOWN!"

Everything happened in slow motion.

Rohan pushed Deirdre to the ground as an arrow flew toward her. Thanks to his quick thinking, it flew over her shoulder and right past her ear. They fell to the ground with a muttered groan, Rohan's body covering hers. He then wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled toward a wall.

Garret and Ivar grabbed their mystic weapons.

Graduates grabbed spare weapons from the nearby racks.

Lynette led the women under and behind the stands for cover.

Angus flipped over the back of the wall and slid down. He scanned his eyes over the field to see where Deirdre ended up.

Behind the wall, Rohan helped Deirdre to sit up, worry echoed in his eyes.

"Deirdre! Oh Gods! Are you injured? Deirdre! Are you hurt?"

He gently caressed her head and torso, looking for any sign of damage.

"I am alright." she moaned. "The fall just hurt when you landed on me. You weigh a ton..."

Rohan continued to check her for cuts and bruises. "Look at me." he commanded. He gently cradled her head in his gloved hands. "Deirdre, are you sure you are alright?"

She was touched by his concern. Heart filling with warmth at his attention, she brought her hand up to her cheek to cover his own. Her breath caught in her throat as she was about to respond. His blue eyes were wide and full of worry. They seemed to look right through her and see into her very soul, searching deep down. The ocean was in his eyes, she thought idly.

Rohan drew in a shaky breath and brought her close to him in a tight embrace. She reveled in the feel of his strong arms around her, keeping her safe from all the mayhem. Resting her head against his shoulders, she allowed her eyes to drift closed for a brief moment.

Rohan was visibly shaking in relief. She was alright! She's not harmed! He barely even felt the tears of relief slide down his cheeks. Gathering up his resolve. He gently untangled himself from her embrace and moved to cautiously peek around the wall's edge. He saw Angus behind a wall in front of him. Looking around, he noticed that Ivar and Garret were leading the counter attack against the intruders.

His face went pale. These weren't intruders. He recognized them as masked assassins from the east. They were known for their ruthlessness and lack of morals. They must have been hired to kill a certain person at the duel. But who funded them? There were at least a hundred! And who were they hired to assassinate? Him? He looked over at Deirdre who looked back in trust and awe. The last puzzle piece clicked into place. Anger flared up inside of him. His chest started to heave in rage. They _dared_ to try and kill his love? They _dared_ to try and take her life in front of his very eyes! They would surely pay!

He turned to the edge of the wall once again and caught Angus's attention. He looked around to make sure it was safe, and motioned him to come toward him.

Angus looked around for any insurgents and crept toward Donovan keeping low to the ground. When he was safely behind the wall, he saw the princess.

"Deirdre!" he cried. "You're alive!"

"Yes I'm fine." she said, embracing him. "Donovan dived toward me and pulled me to safety. He saved my life."

Angus released Deirdre and grabbed Donovan and pulled him in for a hug as well.

"Thank Dagda you were around to save her!" he said.

Rohan just awkwardly patted his shoulder. Angus got the hint and let go, somewhat embarrassed.

"You must know by now that I would give my _life_ to save Deirdre." he replied.

Deirdre smiled gently. "Say it again." she whispered.

"Say what?" he asked.

"My name!" she said, reaching out to grab his hand.

He grasped her hand in his own. He reached out with the other to tuck a strand of stray hair behind her ear, and let his hand softly drift down her cheek.

"Deirdre." he whispered, eyes filled with love and devotion.

Angus was looking around the barrier and saw that most of the insurgents had been contained, few left running around. He then turned to see Donovan and Deirdre enamored with each other. Who would of thought? He never would have guessed that she could have ever gotten over Rohan. Still, something was tugging at the back of his memory. This seemed somehow...familiar. Of course, he thought, when your entire life revolves around almost dying, this day _would_ seem familiar!

"Thank you Donovan." she breathed.

Angus saw movement over Donovan's shoulder.

"Donovan, I think one got away!" he baited.

He laughed inwardly at his abrupt change in demeanor, releasing Deirdre. She took the opportunity to try and compose herself, and will the blush away from her cheeks.

Donovan cleared his throat, "Where is he Angus. Did Ivar and Garret see him?" he stood up and helped a red-faced Deirdre to her feet.

"No, a man in black just ran up toward the castle. We'll just gather everyone and go surround him!"

Rohan gasped. "The castle?! Gavin's in there!!" He turned and sprinted up the hill as fast as he could, running as if his life depended on it.

Deirdre brought a hand to her mouth. "Oh gods, I hope he's alright!"

Angus spun Deirdre around to face him, holding her shoulders tightly. The adrenaline once again started to flow with this new development.

"I''m going after him, Deirdre, he might need help. Go get Ivar, and the others and tell them what's happened. Hurry!"

Deirdre didn't need to be told twice. She she grabbed a sword from a weapons rack nearby. "Angus!"

He turned to her. She tossed him the sword and grabbed another for herself. "Be careful, Princess." he said catching it and running off to follow the king.

"You, too." she whispered. She ran toward Lynette.

Rohan was running as fast as he could toward the castle, lungs burning and ribs moving about painfully in his chest. He ignored it all.

Where Conchobar and Cathbad acted as the guardians he never had, so Gavin was the odd uncle. He was there to tell him what-for whether he wanted to hear it or not. He was deviously sneaky, but all to help out Rohan. He just had to be alright!

Panic started to settle in as he neared the castle.

It was in chaos. The guards were on the ground, nursing wounds and mourning the dead. Donovan only left thirty men up in the castle with Gavin. Why, oh why, was he so _stupid_! A wounded soldier saw the king approaching.

"It was only one man, your Majesty. Unnatural in strength! We have failed you! We could not stop him!"

"Which way did he go?" he asked desperately. He pleaded with the gods, _please, please. Please let it be the treasury. By the gods and all that is holy, please!_

"He went toward the throne room, my Lord, where the feast was to be held."

Rohan staggered in his grief. He gathered all his remaining strength and forced himself to stay upright.

"Tend to the wounded. Tell them they are commanded to stay away and send in only those that are not injured. I shall go in through the secret entrance."

"Yes, my King. May Dagda guide your sword into the heart of that monster!" he saluted his king as he ran off toward the east side of the courtyard.

Rohan pressed a worn brick and a door appeared in the wall. He stepped right into his meditation room. He grabbed his mystic weapon, scattering candles everywhere across the floor, and tore open the inner door. His sword was already warming up in his hand due to his fear, and his rage.

When he entered the throne room, his heart stopped. Gavin was lying on the floor, gagged and tied. He's alive! He started to breathe again, just now realizing that he was holding his breath. Gavin was shaking on the floor, moving about like a slithering snake. He was frantically shaking his head and mumbling.

Rohan stepped up to untie him.

He felt a sharp pain.

He instinctively clutched his left side.

His started to feel dizzy as the adrenaline left his system.

Bringing his hand to his face, he saw the blood.

In the distance, he heard his sword clatter to the floor from his right hand.

Someone was grabbing his neck with their right arm.

And in their left...was the bloody dagger.

A maniacal laugh.

..._you..._

_It's you! _

_...the Traitor!_

* * *

_Note: _Hopefully this puts me back in everyone's good graces. Although, the cliffhanger might not make people to happy[insert maniacal laughter here Review please! Believe it or not, some of the reviews have sparked my writer's block and fired up my creativity. You keep coming with the reviews, and I'll keep working on my plot. I'm not entirely sure when or how I plan on ending this story... 


	20. Blood

**Chapter Twenty: Blood**

Angus ran as fast as he could. Who knows how many attackers made it up to the castle. He only saw one, but that didn't mean there couldn't be more. Donovan could be entering a trap. He knew one thing, either Deirdre or Donovan was the intended target. The two of them needed to stay together. There was always strength in numbers. He stopped to catch his breath. He hoped he would be able to get there in time to help Donovan find the culprits.

Rohan's eyes went wide in terror. 

"Well, well, well!" said a rough voice. "I set out to kill a princess, and I catch a king. How quaint!"

Rohan wheezed in pain. "Torc! You son-of-a-bitch..."

"No Rohan...that would be you, wouldn't it? Maeve's bastard son..."

Rohan felt himself weaken. The contract was about to be fulfilled. It was hopeless. He couldn't get away. Not this time.

"How long have you known?"

Torc chuckled, tightening his grip around the king's neck. "I've always known. I followed you to the lands far to the east. You're not the only one with a dragon, you know. Tyrune is still loyal to me, even with Maeve gone. Pity...how stupid of you to hide your identity from your so-called friends..." he sneered. "And as a consequence, you now die!" He gave the dagger a slow, deliberate twist. Rohan cried out in bitter agony. He was frantically trying to escape the burly man's grip.

"You know that you have just signed peace by killing me...you're a fool," he gasped. "Deirdre now has full authority over the entire island!"

Torc started to laugh. "You think this is about taking over the island? You couldn't be more wrong. Maeve promised to make me her king! You defeated her and took all that away from me!"

Rohan staggered in Torc's grasp. "So that's it then? You betrayed King Conchobar, all of Kells, just so you could play at king at the side of a maniac? Was being a trusted general to the king not enough for you? You were once a man of Kells!"

Taunting his tormentor was probably not a good idea, but he had nothing left to lose now. It was too near the end.

Torc ignored him and struggled to hold him steady. The boy was fading faster than he thought. "This is about revenge, _Donovan_! A _vendetta! _I had planned to kill Princess Deirdre and maroon you an an island like your mother. Wouldn't that be fitting? You left to die, knowing you brought about the death of your _love_. Unfortunately, you once again _saved _the day! But after seeing your blood pooling at my feet, I find this much more satisfying!" he yanked back on blade, releasing the king. He crumpled to the ground next to Gavin.

Gavin felt helpless. His king, his friend, dying before his eyes...and all he could do was lie and watch. Tears coursed down his face and sobs racked his throat.

Torc kneeled down next to Rohan, wiped his blade on the dragon insignia, and tapped his silver mask. "No worries, my boy. I'll let you die with your mask on. Of course, it could get crowded in there, what with you coughing up blood and all." He stood and loomed over the pair of them, his evil grin stretching the scar across his face. He gave Rohan's chest a swift kick for good measure. Rohan cried out and tried to curl into a protective ball, but all his limps were protesting the movement. The coppery stench of blood was invading Rohan's nostrils as he tried to breathe. His futile attempts to stop the blood from pouring out of his wound left his gloves soaked.

"Time to say goodbye, boy. Looks like your wish will come true, you _will_ take your secrets to your grave!" He not only killed the boy, but granted his wish. He was once a general, a future king, and now a fairy god mother. Torc let out a psychotic burst of laughter at the thought.

Rohan closed his eyes, willing death to take him. He would have been content to fall into a sleep and drift over to the other side, but a sharp inhalation from his killer reawakened his senses.

Torc looked down to his torso. He saw the metal protruding from his abdomen, and heard the familiar voice.

"We'll see how much you're laughing when you meet the gods today, Torc! May Dagda torment your soul for eternity!" Angus snarled. Torc saw the face of the enraged knight before falling to the ground where the darkness took him.

Angus fell to Donovan's side, and reluctantly untied Gavin first. Donovan was still breathing, albeit shallowly. Gavin sat up and released the gag around his mouth as soon as Angus cut the ropes around him.

"He said he was after the Princess, is she safe?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Angus, looking at his wounds. "Donovan saved her before running up here to look for you."

"Then it's all my fault," Gavin cried, "it's all my fault! I should have been..."

"No...Gavin, not...you're fault." said Donovan, trying to sit up against the wall, hand still covering the wound.

Gavin pleaded with him. "My king please! There is still time! Tell him, please!" he begged.

"No..." Rohan rasped. "I will not allow it."

"My last command to you Gavin is to leave me be. Let me die with what little dignity I have left."

"What about Deirdre?" Angus asked. "We can marry the two of you in seconds! She can save you!" he desperately tried to reason with the dying king. There was still hope! Angus did not want to see his new friend go. This wasn't right!

"She already has saved me, Angus. I may be the master of my destiny, but she has always been...and always will be...the mistress of my heart. Tell her..." he coughed. "Please. Tell her I have always loved her..." he broke off chest heaving, struggling for breath and choking behind the mask.

"Always? What do you...?" his gaze was distracted by the candlelight reflecting of the metal on the floor. His eyes went wide in disbelief. The sword of the Mystic Knight of Fire. Rohan's sword.

He reached over to caress the hilt of the blade. "Where did you get this..." he whispered.

There was no answer.

"WHERE?" Angus demanded. "Where did you find this sword?!"

Rohan looked into his best friend's eyes. "Angus..." he whispered.

Angus looked into his blue eyes, his own going wide in final acknowledgment.

"I am so sorry my friend...my brother. Please, forgive me!" he cried.

Angus was overcome by a range of emotions. Disbelief, love, fear, anger, disappointment, and determination. He stood and bolted out the door.

"Angus!" Rohan cried. No, he thought. Please forgive me, Angus. Can't you see that I had to do this?

He ran right past Deirdre and the others as they entered the throne room.

"Angus! What's happened?" she implored.

He didn't give her a second glance, but kept on running. He mounted a horse and galloped off toward Kells Castle, never once looking back.

Deirdre turned her attention back to the room. "Donovan! ...no, no!" she screamed, throwing herself at his feet. Blood...there was so much blood. Garrett saw Torc's body and called for aid in removing the corpse. Ivar wasn't looking at the king or the traitor, but at Gavin. He was pointedly looking between Ivar and a sword. Ivar followed his gaze.

His eyes wide, he picked up the blade. Garrett looked over Ivar's shoulder and saw the sword. His head snapped up to see Deirdre still sobbing on Donovan, her shaking hands desperately trying to stop his bleeding, and Gavin nodding his head in affirmation.

Garrett went pale. "Rohan..." he croaked, falling to his knees.

Ivar yelled. "No, damn it! Why?"

Deirdre looked between them then at the sword held in Ivar's hands.

"I tried to tell you." Gavin whispered.

Rohan just sat there, still laboring to stay alive. Deirdre's hands gently pulled down his hood. His curly brown hair was held at the nape of his neck with a strip of leather, some of the strands caked with blood.

He then vaguely realized what was happening. "No, please..." he moaned.

She ignored him, and gently removed the silver mask from his face, eyes never straying from his own. She gasped and dropped the mask, letting it clatter noisily to the floor.

Angus was pushing the horse as fast as it could go, urging the stallion to run just a bit faster. Only one thing was on his mind: Kells Castle. He had to get to Kells Castle! So distracted was he in his frame of mind, that when Pyre the dragon flew up next to Angus, he acted without even thinking. He vaulted from the horse and jumped onto Pyre's back. How or why Pyre knew that Angus needed him, the knight didn't care. He had to get to Kells, and together, soared into the sky.

* * *

Note: Sigh, well I couldn't leave well enough alone this time. I just HAD to keep writting. It was all flowing nicely, so I didn't stop. I apologize for the language in this chapter as well, but I DID rate it "T" you know...

I MISS shows like this. GOOD stuff on the telly. I saw the movie "fracture" the other day (i very much recomend it) and was surprised to see Mr. Ryan Gosling. Of course, I didn't know it was Gosling, I just thought, "it's Hercules!" Anyone else miss that show as well? I'll stop ranting now and able this energy to thinking how I want to continue on...


	21. Thievery

**Chapter Twenty-one: Thievery**

Angus made it to Kells in record time. It was growing dark, and King Conchobar and his court were taking their supper in the dinning hall. The guards paid him little mind as he strode through the passageways and into the throne room. He stopped in front of a table by the throne and rummaged through the papers scattered across its surface. He frantically threw unwanted items behind him, until he found a scroll. Pocketing it, he stepped over the mess on the floor and looked toward Cathbad's chambers. Good, he was still in the dinning hall. He ran up the stairs and pulled on the door handle. It was locked.

Damn it, he thought. Of all the times to lock your door, old man! Good thing he knew which window to climb through.

Cathbad returned from his meal to hear clanks and crashes from inside his chambers.

"Angus..." he growled. Teeth grinding together, he unlocked his door and slammed it closed behind him.

Everything was trashed. Scrolls littered the floor, boxes of powders knocked over, and one thief was still rummaging around as if he had a demon chasing him.

"Angus!" yelled Cathbad. "How many times have I told you to not break into my quarters! Look what you've done!"

Angus wasn't even listening.

"Have you gone completely mad?" Cathbad asked. With no response, Cathbad tried to grab Angus's shoulders to spin him around to face him. He didn't budge.

"Not now, Cathbad!" he roared, pushing him off.

"Stop it! Stop destroying my work!"

Angus spun to give Cathbad a petrifying stare. "Where is it? Where is the potion?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?"

Cathbad jumped at the glass shattering against the wall. "THE POTION!" he shrieked. "I know Lynette and Garrett brought more of it back from their trip, I know they bottled it up, and I KNOW that they gave it to YOU! Now WHERE IS IT?"

Cathbad backed up against the door, his hand to his heart. Who was this? Was it some sort of doppelganger impersonating Angus? He was afraid.

Angus saw his expression and softened marginally. "I need that potion, I need it for Rohan, and you will give it to me..._now!"_

"Rohan has been gone for over three years, Angus. He is most likely dead, you need to get past..."

"He is not dead, I saw him with my own eyes! Don't tell me what I do and do not know! I am not a child anymore! But if you do not tell me where that restorative potion is, he _will_ die, and his death will be on _your_ hands!"

He's mad, Cathbad thought. Absolutely, barking mad! He knew there would be a mental breakdown with this boy, especially with his best friend's disappearance, but he had no idea that it could escalate to this! Well, he had more than one bottle. Wasting one or two on this rage was preferable to getting hurt for not complying. He pulled out a stone from the wall by his bed and pulled out a few bottles, setting them on the wrecked counter. Angus grabbed one and pocketed it before sweeping out the door.

"Sorry. I'll clean it up when I get back..." he muttered.

Cathbad was floored. If Angus was offering to clean up after himself, then he still had his mental capacities. What the hell was going on? He yelled after him, "You have a lot to explain when you return, Angus!"

Cathbad went to find King Conchobar, thinking about what Angus was yelling about. He paused in the throne room. It looked like Angus had stolen one of the king's documents as well, papers were scattered everywhere. Cathbad re-stacked them neatly on the table, setting the Ancient Scroll on top. He looked at the familiar parchment, finally complete. His brow furrowed. Why did Angus think Rohan was alive? Could Draganta really have returned? He grabbed a sheet of blank parchment, scribbling down a note. He strode to the hallway and called out, "Guard! Take this note to King Conchobar, immediately!" He hastened to his chambers without waiting for the guard's reply. Gathering a bag of potions and powders, he left his chambers in shambles, and headed toward the stables.

The black-haired knight ran out through the front gate ignoring the friendly greetings from the castle guards. Pyre was there waiting for him, not making a sound. As soon as Angus mounted him, Pyre started to fly in the direction of old Temra. Pyre must feel my need, thought Angus. It would explain his cooperation. He nervously felt his pockets for his stolen loot. _Hold on, Rohan. I'm coming. Just hold on!_

Rohan drew a large grateful breath as Deirdre dropped his mask. Torc was correct, it had been difficult to breathe with the blood collecting in his mask. He was actually choking on his own blood.

Deirdre was in shock.

What did this mean? She loved Rohan, and was slightly uncomfortable when she started to have feelings for Donovan. But now, it all made sense.

Donovan was Rohan. Rohan was Donovan.

Rohan was gulping down air at an alarming rate, coughing out the blood that had congregated in his lungs. He was a terrible sight. His face was pale and clammy, blood trickling out of his mouth and down his chin. He was starring intently at Deirdre, trying to gage her reaction. She was just starring at him. Was she not going to say anything? Even yelling at him would be preferable to this silence, it was unnerving.

Ivar was running around the room with Gavin, tearing down curtains and gathering as much cloth as he could find for bandages. There were so many aspects of this situation that were confusing, but the prince could guess why he thought he had to do this alone. He didn't know if anyone else had put it together yet, but he figured that this meant that Rohan was Maeve's son. He could only imagine Rohan's shock when _he_ found out. Something clicked for Ivar. He looked over at his dying friend.

So that's why! He was afraid that we would abandon him!

Ivar walked to Garrett, who was still gape-mouthed. He tried to get his attention to tell him what he discovered, but Garrett suddenly began looking around the room.

"Where's my wife?" he asked.

Ivar looked around. "Last I saw her, she was with the women outside, tending to the wounded. Why?"

"I have to get the Kells! Immediately!"

Ivar put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Why? What good will that do us now?"

Looking at Deirdre, he said, "Do you remember when Rohan was almost killed in battle that one time? I had a potion with me that was given to me by one of the healers in Lynette's kingdom. It miraculously saved his life. We brought more back with us last time and gave it to Cathbad for safekeeping."

"We need to get him stable first." said Gavin, joining them. He knew it was no use. With the peace treaty signed, Rohan could not be healed. But he played along to keep them all here. He needed his friends here with him. At least this way, he wouldn't have to die alone.

Deirdre finally broke out of her reverie. She was furious. So she did the first thing that came to her mind.

She slapped Rohan. Hard.

He grimaced in pain. "I deserve that." he groaned.

Ivar saw the exchange and went to intervene. The last thing that would help Rohan would be for Deirdre to beat on him. He was stopped by Gavin and Garrett.

"You have to let them work it out." whispered Garrett. "Trust me on this one."

Rohan turned his face back to Deirdre. He would be brave and face her. The least he could do was explain himself. "Deirdre...I only wanted to..."

He was interrupted by soft lips coming in contact with his. He closed his eyes, savoring the kiss.

Deirdre cradled his head, kissing him fiercely, demanding his attention. The kiss was frantic, a sense of desperation flowing through her. She finally had him back. He had a lot to answer to, much to explain. But right now, she needed to know that he was real. She felt his hands come to her shoulders, gently pushing her away.

Rohan reluctantly pushed her back. "As enjoyable as that is, Deirdre, there are more important things to do just now." He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to calm her as the tears flowed anew.

"Not now, Rohan. Wait a second." said Ivar.

He and Garrett tenderly pulled Rohan up by the shoulders and let him to the banquet table.

Gavin used his arm to sweep all the food and platters out of the way, most of it clattering to the floor. Garrett and Ivar gently settled him back on the table, using a waded curtain to support his head.

Garrett patted Ivar on the shoulder, signaling his departure. He ran out toward the courtyard to look for Lynette.

Deirdre was at his side, holding his hand as Ivar and Gavin did their best to clean up his wound. "It's not very deep," said Gavin. He picked up a knife from the table and used it to cut away at Rohan's shirt. As he peeled it back, Deirdre gasped. His toned chest was discolored, yellow and black with deep bruising. She gently slid her hand down his chest. He hissed, and she pulled back her hand.

"Oh, Rohan..." she cried. She leaned over to look directly in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me? Was it because you thought I'd love you less? Or...did you think...you _do_ love me, don't you?" she asked. What if he didn't? What if he did all this because he didn't want to marry _her?_

He saw the fear of rejection in her eyes and brought his hand to her cheek.

"I have always loved you, and I always will. I've wanted to marry you for ages! But not like this. I...I am _her_ son. Don't you see? Maeve is my mother. I couldn't take the shame...and I wanted you to marry me because you cared for me, not because you were forced to. Forgive me..."

"Sorry to interrupt, Rohan." intercepted Gavin. He placed a comforting hand on his brow. "But you need to know...you don't...you don't have much time left. Just say what you need to say."

"I know, Gavin," he whispered, "I know..."

"What do you mean he doesn't have much time left?" asked Ivar. He said the wound wasn't that deep, surely they could heal him!

Gavin explained about the scroll, and what it meant.

"Damn it, Rohan!" fumed Deirdre. "Why did you have to be such an idiot!"

Rohan chuckled painfully. "Love makes us do crazy things." he said.

He closed his eyes. She patted his cheek with her hand. "No you don't! Stay awake!"

"I'm sorry." he breathed. "I'm going to have to disappoint you again, Princess."

"You have _never_ disappointed me. And it's Deirdre remember? Now stay with us, stay with me...please."

His eyes drifted shut, content. "Deirdre..."

"Rohan? Rohan! Wake up! Please!"

Gavin gazed in sorrow at the princess, a lone tear drifting down his cheek. "He is unconscious, Princess. I don't think he will wake up again."

"Gavin?" called Angus.

"In here, Angus!" yelled Ivar.

Angus strode into the room. He looked down at the table. "Am I too late?" he asked.

"He's unconscious." hiccuped Deirdre.

Angus let his eyes drift shut. "Thank the gods." he mumbled.

Deirdre stared incredulously. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

His eyes snapped open. "No time to explain. Trust me on this Deirdre." He pulled out the potion bottle and scroll from his pockets.

Ivar picked up the bottle and examined it. "This is the potion Garrett was talking about. I'd recognize it's hue anywhere! But it will do him no good, he can't be healed!"

"That's why I brought the scroll."

Deirdre opened the seal. "The peace treaty." she breathed. "How did you get all this?"

"Sometimes being a thief has it's advantages."

Gavin was at the fireplace, desperately trying to light a fire. "We have to destroy it!" He said. "But I cannot get a fire going!" He threw the flint down in defeat. He felt helpless, he couldn't even light a fire to save the man's life!

Garrett strode in with Lynette at his heals. She picked up Rohan's discarded sword. She pointed it at the fireplace. "Move!" she yelled at Gavin.

He barely dove out of the way as a great fireball shot into the chimney and brought the fire to life, crackling merrily in the somber room.

Garrett looked at his wife. "Very nice! You would have made a great knight."

"There's no time for jokes!" yelled Deirdre. She grabbed the scroll and tossed it into the flame, watching it shrivel slowly.

Garrett answered Ivar's unasked question. "We were saddling our horses to head to Kells when Angus came back. We were about to try and mount Pyre instead, but Angus told us to forget it and follow him. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. As soon as Angus jumped off, Pyre was in the air again, flying back toward Kells. We put away the horses and came to see what was going on."

"He must have returned for a reason." said Angus, gazing intently at the shrinking parchment. "That dragon is too smart for its own good."

The peace treaty finally disappeared in a stream of smoke, and Deirdre rushed back to Rohan's side.

"He's still breathing," said Lynette, "but how do we know if it worked or not?"

A age-wizened voice replied behind them. "You let me attend to him with my potions."

"Cathbad!"

* * *

Note: Ironic that it has been raining this whole week, right when I start writing this sad section. Please review! 


	22. Weeping, Wine, and Waiting

**Chapter Twenty-two: Weeping, Wine, and Waiting**

"Cathbad! What are you doing here?" asked a surprised Ivar.

"You can thank Angus for that one. After he trashed my chambers, I got curious. When I was halfway to Temra, Pyre showed up. Imagine my surprise when he just stood there, looking expectantly at me and my frightened horse! Angus's foolishness must be rubbing off, because I chose to mount the beast. Though he brought me straight here, that is the absolute LAST time I ride the ruddy dragon! I've never been so terrified in my entire life!"

Garrett gave the druid a small grin.

Gavin pushed his way through the other knights and addressed the druid.

"We haven't much time, he is not conscious. If you are here to help, then I beg you to hurry!"

Looking at the table, Cathbad gasped. "So it's true! Rohan IS alive? And...why is he...? By the great Dagda! He was masquerading as Donovan the whole time, wasn't he?"

Snapping out of his trance, Cathbad started unloading his satchel. "Who saw what happened?" he asked.

Gavin stepped up. "I know everything, let me be of service."

"Agreed." Cathbad replied. He saw the potion bottle on the table. "I never thought I'd say this, but good thinking, Angus. I'll need this later. Now everyone else, clear the room."

"What?!" yelled a distressed Angus.

"I am NOT leaving him!" said Deirdre, still holding his hand.

Lynette went to the Princess and carefully pried her hand away from the wounded king.

"Deirdre," she said, "you must let Cathbad and Gavin work on him. Let them concentrate. I have every faith that they can heal him, but you need to let them see him." She coaxed the princess away and led her to the library.

Angus stared at Cathbad. The druid looked annoyed. "You know you cannot help he, so just go with them! I need to concentrate!"

Ivar was the last to leave. "Take care of him, I will check back later."

Gavin turned to the moorish prince. "See to the princess, she is still in shock. I dare-say a glass of wine might settle her nerves."

"Now then," whispered the druid. "Let's see what you've done to yourself, my boy."

Lynette and the four mystic knights had taken refuge in the library while Cathbad and Gavin tended to Rohan. Ivar had taken Gavin's advise and brought a cask of wine from the kitchens.

"To Rohan!" said Angus, lifting up his goblet. "A King, a Knight, and a man sneakier than this here thief." They all drank silently. Garrett was next to give a toast.

"To Gavin, a loyal man who worked to show us the truth, blind as we may be." Another sip. "To Peace." Ivar said, raising his own mug.

Deirdre slammed her goblet down on the side table, spilling its contents.

"Damn peace!" she yelled. "I've had enough of _peace_ and _duty!_ Let it rot! It won't help Rohan now! Duty and peace is what is _killing him!"_

Lynette tried to calm her down.

"Lay off, Lynette! I will _not_ just sit here and let you toast him like...like, he is already dead! He's _not_ dead, and he's _not _going to die!"

"Of course not," she soothed. "We are just trying to calm our nerves. This whole situation has gotten everyone confused and hurt."

_Maybe I should have gotten an older bottle, _thought Ivar. _Something a little more, potent._

"Did anyone have an inkling that they were the same person?" asked Garrett.

Everyone shook their heads in the negative. Angus jumped up and began pacing.

"Settle down, Angus." bid Lynette. "Your pacing is making me nervous!"

"I'm making _you_ nervous?!" he roared. "Do you forget about that night when I...when he...I almost _killed him!"_

Deirdre's attention focused on the pacing knight. "What did you say?"

Angus sighed. "That day when we first spent the night here. Remember? Lynette was wandering around the castle, and I found her talking with Donov...Rohan. He...he..."

"He pulled out a dagger and asked Angus to kill him." finished Lynette.

Ivar choked on his drink. "He did what?"

Garrett looked sternly at his wife. Now was probably not the best time to bring this subject up, especially in front of Deirdre.

Angus was now sitting in a chair, head in his hands. His body was shaking. Deirdre crossed to him and dropped to her knees at his feet. Slowly she pulled his hands away from his face. He was weeping.

"I could have killed him!" he sobbed. "My best friend! I thought about it, and I almost..."

Deirdre pulled him down into her lap on the floor, embracing the mourning man.

Ivar was upset. So that's what really happened. My gods! What would have happened to Angus if he actually did go through with it? It would have destroyed him for sure!

"What now?" whispered a tearful Lynette.

"I'm going to go check on him," Ivar whispered back. "I'll return with an update on his condition."

He snuck out the door, leaving the others to their sorrow.

Ivar tiptoed into the room and stood behind the two men.

Cathbad sensed his presence and motioned him around to the other side of the table.

Ivar looked down at Rohan. He was so very pale. If it wasn't for the slight movement of his chest, Ivar would have thought him beyond aid.

"We used the potion, and used some other medicines on the wound," said Gavin. "And Cathbad and I stitched it closed. We could use your help. We need to wrap him up."

Ivar silently nodded. He gently leaned Rohan up, Gavin and Cathbad wrapping the bandages around his waist and chest.

"Now what?" asked Ivar.

Cathbad sighed. "Now, we wait...and pray."

Ivar returned to his congregated friends in the library.

"Come. We can see him now. Cathbad and Gavin have finished administering to his wounds. We need to move him someplace more comfortable than the banquet table."

They all rushed out the doors, following Ivar.

Deirdre ran to his side, taking his limp hand in her own. Lynette placed her arm around the princess, trying to give her what comfort she could.

Cathbad and Gavin were talking near the fireplace. The other three knights approached them.

"How is he?" asked Angus.

"He is stable, for now." answered the druid. "Gavin told me everything. It seems that the destruction of the scroll has allowed for his body to heal, but there was much damage. More than I thought."

"What do you mean?" said Ivar

Gavin sighed. "When Angus and Rohan dueled, Rohan sustained a few cracked ribs. And the bruising was intensive. Added to the dagger wound in his side...he's barely hanging on."

Angus paled. "But, the potion? I thought..."

"Yes, yes." agreed Cathbad. "It should have healed him completely. But I'm afraid that the magic that was binding him to both the prophesy of the Ancient Scroll and the agreement of the Peace Treaty was too strong. There is nothing more that we can do. I've done all I can. I have some potions here that should be administered to him everyday, but that will only go so far."

Garrett looked at Deirdre, still holding Rohan's hand, oblivious to the conversation. "Someone mentioned that he needed to be moved?" he inquired.

"Yes." nodded Gavin. "We need to ready his chambers, and get him into bed."

Lynette spoke up. "Deirdre and I will help you get it ready, Gavin."

"Good." agreed Cathbad. "Angus, Ivar, and Garrett can move him. There is a thick curtain over there on the floor. Perhaps you can put it to good use." he suggested.

Ivar turned to Garrett. "Do you have your timber axes on you?" he asked.

"Yes, why?"

"I have an idea, come on. Angus! Are you going to stay here with him?"

Angus took Deirdre's spot on the bench. "Yes, Cathbad and I will watch over him."

Ivar and Garrett went outside to the woods, Deirdre and Lynette followed Gavin toward Rohan's chambers, and Angus sat with Rohan, silently pleading with him to hang on.

Gavin unlocked the door to the king's chambers and ushered the two women inside. Deirdre looked around.

"Isn't it a bit small?" she asked.

Gavin went to the windows and opened the shades, letting in the moonlight. "It's not the original royal chambers. He said he didn't need a reminder of what he is, so he took this room instead."

Lynette nodded. It made sense to her. Besides, she thought, Rohan seemed to be very much down-to-earth, and not because of his early humble means.

Deirdre opened his wardrobe, hoping to find some blankets. She saw the tunic he wore the last time she saw him in Kells, at the banquet. She remembered how handsome he looked, all dressed up. And their dance! Oh, how he held her close...giving way to their first kiss...Swallowing a sob, she reached for the blankets and shut the doors to the wardrobe and to her memories. She and Lynette carefully made the bed, turning down the sheets, as Gavin lit the candles in the room.

It was about that time that Ivar, Garret, Angus and Cathbad arrived. Ivar and Garrett had gone out into the forest and chopped down a tree, shaping it into two poles with the use of Garrett's twin timber axes. Between them was stretched the cloth, with Rohan nestled inside. They carefully maneuvered him through the door on the improvised stretcher and placed him on the bed. Angus removed the poles, and they left the curtain under him. Deirdre and Lynette gently covered him up with the blankets and placed a pillow under his head.

Cathbad sighed. It had been a long night, and morning would break in only a few more hours. "We all need to take turns sitting with him." he said. "I only ask that someone besides myself has the first watch. I am not as young as I used to be."

Deirdre pulled up a chair. "I will take the first watch." she claimed.

Everyone nodded. "I will bring you some food and drink." said Gavin.

Angus laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'll just be in the next room, Deirdre. Come and get me if you need me."

"Alright." she whispered.

They left her with Rohan. She gently wiped his face with a damp cloth as he continued to breathe.

* * *

Note:

"Tonight's top story: 9 out of 10 Americans believe that out of 10 people, one American will always disagree with the other 9." -quoted from the Great Colin Mochrie on Whose Line is it Anyway

Do not sue me because I like to quote people and give them credit, it's just mean and rude! Review, if you please!


	23. Angus the notso Prude

**Chapter Twenty-three: Angus the not-so Prude**

Deirdre was in the exact same position by Rohan's side when Gavin returned. He placed the tray of beef stew and mug of warm mead on the table next to her.

"I don't know what to do." she confessed. "I feel so helpless! Even if he were awake, I wouldn't even know what to say to him."

Gavin stood next to her, watching the king take slow, rhythmic breaths, almost like he was in some unnatural form of sleep.

"You know, Princess, he may be unconscious, but perhaps talking through some of your thoughts and feelings out loud might help you. Consider it practice for when he wakes up. If you're lucky, he may actually hear you."

Deirdre smiled up at him. "Thank you, Gavin. I may just do that."

She waited until he left the room before looking back at Rohan.

"Maybe he's right," she said. "I could use a little one-sided conversation right now."

She flipped his hand over, running her fingertips over the indentations in his palm. One was black.

"I remember when you did this. That was right after you signed the treaty, wasn't it?" She shook her head. "Of course it was! I feel ridiculous, sitting here and asking you questions you won't answer!" she gave a long sigh.

"I can't believe I didn't see it! I feel so ashamed! We've known each other since we were kids for goodness sakes! You even managed to pull the wool over Angus's eyes. He made a toast to you earlier, saying you were a better thief than him! Well, that's not exactly what he said...he said you are sneakier, but that's the same thing in my opinion."

She brushed a lock of stray hair back from his face. He didn't even flinch at the contact.

"I've never seen you this...vulnerable." she said sadly. "You were always so...strong, and brave. And this is what, the second? Third time you've almost died on me? And still have not truly told you how much you mean to me. One would think I would have learned by now, but then again, you have always said I was stubborn." she smiled. "Now look whose calling the kettle black, you infuriating man!"

She gently stroked his clammy cheek, grimacing at the small red hand print that stood out from the pale white skin.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, but you did deserve it, you know."

"That he did, Deirdre."

Deirdre turned to see Garrett and Lynette in the doorway. "Hello." she said softly.

"How is he?" asked Lynette.

"He is very much the same. Breathing steady, but very softly. He's not responding to anything."

"We are going with Gavin and Cathbad to Kells to fill in your father on everything. I take it you want to stay here?"

She nodded.

"Angus is still next door, and Cathbad is filling in Ivar down the hall on Rohan's treatment until we return. Call on them if you need anything." she said.

"Don't worry," said Garrett laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He'll be alright. After all, he's faced a fiery dragon before and made it out alright."

Deirdre smiled and laid a grateful hand on top of his. "Thank you, Garrett. But this is different than taming Pyre or fighting Tyrune."

Garrett stepped back, a smile pulling at his lips. "I wasn't talking about them, Deirdre."

Lynette smacked him at his audacity. It seemed like just the thing to make Deirdre smile. It was nice to see that Lynette could handle him.

"Just wait until you see her father, _then_ you compare her to a scaly, fire-breathing beast!" she threatened.

Garrett shrugged, winked at Deirdre, and left with his wife in tow.

When they closed the door, Deirdre turned back to her patient with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You really ought to wake up, just to see Lynnette heap abuse on Garrett. It really is quite worth it!"

She thought she was imagining it, but Deirdre swore she saw Rohan start to shake with silent laughter. It was moments later when she realized that he really was shaking, but no one was laughing.

Oh no, she thought. She felt a bare patch of skin on his chest that wasn't covered in bandages. He was frigid!

"Angus!" she yelled.

A slam and heavy footfalls let her know that her cry was heard, as she began to rub her hands over his arm to try and warm him up.

"What's going on?"

"He's shivering from cold. I don't know what's wrong!"

"Try and find some more blankets in the wardrobe, I'll get Ivar."

She found two more blankets and covered him up. He didn't stop convulsing.

Ivar ran in with Angus right behind him. "Cathbad only left healing herbs and powders. We don't have anything to make him warmer."

Angus rushed to his bedside, trying to help Deirdre warm him up with his hands. "Can't we move him to another room? This one has an open window and no fireplace!"

Ivar shook his head. "I dare not. Not in his condition."

Deirdre released Rohan's hand and took of her cape.

"What are you doing?" asked Ivar as she removed her boots.

She tried to turn Rohan to his right side, with his wound to the ceiling, but he weighed too much.

"Well don't just stand there staring at me! Help!"

Angus helped her position him so that his back was facing them. Deirdre then walked around to the other side of the bed and crawled under the covers with him, placing her back against his chest.

"Someone has to warm him up." she said.

Angus looked up at her as if she were mad. "Deirdre?"

"What do you think you are doing?" hissed Ivar.

"He's covered in blankets and not doing any better, the only thing left we can do is try body heat." she reasoned.

"Deirdre! You are an unmarried woman in bed with a man who is NOT your husband, much less a betrothed! You can't..."

"Oh do shut up, Ivar!" she said rolling her eyes. "It's not like he is in the position to take advantage of the situation, even if he was conscious!"

"Deirdre!" Angus reprimanded.

She glared at him. "You can either stand there and gawk like a bloody prude, or you can help me!"

Angus looked between a determined Deirdre and a morally affronted Ivar. He decided to side with the one that could cause him the most damage, so naturally, he took off his vest and boots and climbed in the bed on the other side.

"Angus!"

"I agree with Deirdre, shut up Ivar!"

He stammered, "B...but...what about when King Conchobar..."

"What my father doesn't know won't hurt him." insisted Deirdre, spooned up against the shivering King. "You can stay and chaperone us all if you like, but if you tell anyone about this I WILL hurt you! No need to tarnish my reputation for no reason!"

Ivar sighed. Because she was a Princess, she could face a lot of public scrutiny for this. He picked up her mug of mead and took a large gulp.

After a few minutes, Rohan's shaking slowed, and he drifted back to a steady, fragile sleep. Deirdre silently thanked the gods and placed Rohan's arm around her waist, snuggling further back into his embrace.

Angus looked over Rohan's shoulder and down at Deirdre on the other side of the bed. "You know, if anyone told me a week ago that I'd be sharing a bed with you and Rohan, I'd have laughed."

Ivar groaned.

* * *

Note: Thank you for the reviews, more to come. 


	24. Wakeup Call

**Chapter Twenty-four: Wake-up Call**

Deirdre awoke a few hours later to some very intense snoring. She peeked over her shoulder from beneath the covers to see Angus out cold on the other side of the bed and Ivar fast asleep in the chair. She repositioned herself in the bed to face Rohan. Although it seemed that his tremors had gone, she made sure that she was as close to him as possible. Just in case, she convinced herself.

She carefully ran her hands across his bandaged chest. He really is more muscled than he looks, she thought blushing. Amazing what just a bit of cloth can hide. But when she thought about camouflage, it inevitably lead to thoughts of the retched silver mask, probably still laying somewhere on the floor in the other room, forgotten. It was strange to think that after all this time, it was just him underneath it all. She traced the path from his brow down to his strong jaw with her fingers. He had not aged a day, she noticed, taking in the familiar features. He was just as handsome as she remembered.

She cupped his face in her warm hands and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, letting her hands linger behind. Deep in Rohan's subconscious, he registered her movements and nuzzled further into her hands in his sleep. Deirdre's heart soared. _He's still with me! _She sighed. Perhaps things might be alright after all. Content for the moment, she settled back down into the soft mattress, carefully placing her ear against the slow rhythmic beating of his heart. Little did she know that the King was starting to wake from his slumber.

Rohan felt warm, and safe. He didn't know where he was, but it was not worrying him. He remembered hearing a swirling vortex of voices around him, and felt the warm comforting presence of human contact around him. As he slowly opened his eyes, he was grateful for the time. The soft light of daybreak filtering in through the window was faint enough to not hurt his eyes.

Funny, he thought. I could have sworn that I was outside near the flower gardens, but I see a window. He heard two distinct snores behind him. One was immediately recognized. Angus. You could not live in a hut with the man for years and not place the enunciated breathing!

He looked down and saw a sea of red. Deirdre. He was in a bed with Deirdre! While his slow brain was cataloging this information and analyzing its importance, he took in the aroma of her hair. _Ah. So that's why I smelled flowers_, he discovered. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, basking in the scent of her hair. He felt someone shift behind him. This was a bit awkward! He was in a room with at least three people that he knew of, and two of them were in the bed with him! He was somewhat relieved that there were others in the room. That way, Deirdre was in the clear. But secretly, he wished that she was the only there with him.

Deirdre felt the sunlight start to shine through her eyelids, forcing her to acknowledge the starting of the day. She frowned.

"I wish I could just stay like this all day." she whispered to herself. "I could get used to this."

A rumbling voice responded. "So could I, but I could do without Angus's arms around my waist. It's a little unsettling!"

At the sound of Rohan's voice, Deirdre screamed and promptly feel out of the bed. Well, Rohan thought, that wasn't quite the response I was hoping for.

Ivar awoke with a jump at the princess's startled shout. "Deirdre? Where are you?" he asked.

She groaned. "I'm over here, Ivar."

Rohan made a move to help her, but a slicing pain in his side stopped him mid-movement. He hissed.

Ivar looked from Deirdre over to Rohan. "He's awake! Thank the gods!"

Deirdre blushed as she pulled herself up off the floor and joined Ivar in welcoming Rohan back to the world of the living.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"I'd feel a hell of a lot better if someone would please move Angus' arm."

Ivar chuckled as he gently unwrapped Angus from around Rohan's hips. The black-haired knight snorted and rolled over.

"How should I wake him up?" Ivar asked.

Rohan smirked. "I think Deirdre's method was very effective."

Ivar was a little confused, but Deirdre just grinned back at Rohan. She sat in front of him, then reached over his side and pushed Angus. Hard.

"Wow." she said. "I didn't think it was possible for his voice to get that high."

Angus got up off the floor and rubbed his sore bottom. "Ouch! What the heck was that for?!"

"Look whose awake!" said Ivar, pointing to the bed.

Angus saw Deirdre smile down at Rohan, still wrapped up in bandages and blankets.

"Rohan!" he said running around to speak to his best friend face to face.

Once Angus saw the his bright blue eyes and pallid face, he couldn't get any words out without stuttering with emotion.

"You stupid sod!" he said, "You sodding, bloody...idiot!"

"Nice to see your vocabulary hasn't changed, Angus." he joked.

Angus ran a weary hand through his matted black hair and sighed.

Rohan looked up at Deirdre. "Would you mind giving us a moment?"

"Of course." she said. "Ivar and I need to ready some new bandages anyway, don't we Ivar?"

"Yes." he agreed. "Let's go. I'll show you what Cathbad left."

Deirdre gave Rohan an encouraging look before carefully closing the door behind her.

Neither man was willing to be the first to bring up any solemn subjects. Rohan carefully rolled to his back and Angus sat on the bed beside him. They just stared at each other for a long time. Then Rohan finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry." he whispered.

"You damn well better be!" growled Angus.

Rohan scowled right back. "What the hell was I supposed to do, Angus? What was I supposed to do? She was my mother, for gods sakes! I was Prince of Temra! I didn't know how to run a country, I didn't know how Kells would react, and I didn't know any other way to fulfill the prophecy without making everyone I loved miserable!"

Angus started to pace. "You know what else you _still_ don't know after all these years? You don't know how to trust your friends, and you don't know how to ask for help!"

"You're one to talk..."

"This is not about me, Rohan! This is about you! I understand, really, I do! You love Deirdre, I've always known. Hell, everyone knew but the two of you! You wanted her to love you in return without the added pressure. You didn't want her to love you out of duty. But you are forgetting one thing. We are a _team!_ We always have been! Well, not from the beginning, I'll admit, but we work together! That has been the only way that the Mystic Knights could defend our people, and it's the only way we can still succeed. It may have been your past and your destiny, but it's _our future!_ You didn't have to tell Deirdre about the scroll, you know. You could have wooed her and married her, _then_ 'find' the scroll!"

"That would have been living a lie, Angus!"

"What have you been doing, Rohan? You've been doing just that!"

Rohan looked down at his hands, ashamed. "I've really made a mess of everything, haven't I?" he asked.

Angus laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. "But you are still here. You are alive, and you have a chance to make things right."

"How?" he asked. "How can I undo the damage I've done?"

"You can't," replied Angus. "But you _can_ move on. You can trust your friends...you can trust _me_ to help you through it."

Rohan looked up at him. Since when has Angus become so wise? When did he grow up and mature? If only everyone would be lucky enough to have a best friend like Angus. "Thank you." Rohan whispered.

"Now that all of that is done with," announced Angus, "we will never speak of any of this again. Agreed?"

"Agreed." smiled Rohan.

Angus opened the door to retrieve the others, but paused in the doorway. He turned a penetrating stare back at his childhood friend. "But if you _ever_ ask me to end your life ever again, you had better be a hundred years old, and already dying!"

He left Rohan to his thoughts. How was he ever going to fix this mess. Everyone seemed to still love him, despite his mistakes. But would they still stand by him, knowing what eventually had to be done? A single tear escaped him. He finally realized the pain he had caused, yet still felt the love of his friends despite it. He was so unworthy of it all.

* * *

Note: To link it to the television series, I had Angus do a little "Go Team!" pep-talk in this chapter. Corny, I'll admit, so I hope everyone doesn't mind too terribly. Please review! I have another chapter a sentence away from being posted, but I think I shall hold it hostage until I get at least, say, six more reviews. I'm Evil. I know. 


	25. Heart of Gold

**Chapter Twenty-five: Heart of Gold**

Deirdre knocked on the door to Rohan's chambers, a bowl in her hands and strips of fabric draped across her shoulder. She heard a quiet moan from behind the solid oak door. "Come in." rasped the voice.

Deidre walked in and set the bowl on the table and placed the bandages next to them.

"What do you think you are doing?!" she demanded.

Rohan was caught red handed trying put a shirt on near the wardrobe.

"I'm trying get dressed." he winced.

"Well don't!" she commanded, ripping the top from his hands. "You shouldn't even be out of bed!" she scolded.

"I won't just lay about all day!" he insisted.

He gasped and grabbed his side, staggering. Deirdre caught him before he fell outright. She led him back to the bed and made him sit down.

"You will if I _tell_ you to!"

She inspected his injuries. His knife wound was bleeding again slightly through the bandages at his side.

She scowled at him, shaking her finger. "You see what you did? The wound has reopened because you decided to try and get up too fast! You need to stay still for a few days yet and let your body heal!" she lectured.

Gently unwrapping his dressings about his chest, she began to reapply Cathbad's healing powders and potions.

Rohan cried out in pain.

Deirdre winced. "I'm sorry, Rohan, but it has to be done."

"I know," he said, grinding his teeth. "Just be as quick as you can."

The astringent liquid burned like acid against the open wound. Rohan lay propped up against the pillows with hands fisted tight in the bed linens. He was trying very hard not to cry out as Deirdre tended him.

Finished with the medication, she tenderly wrapped fresh bandages around the knife injury, but opted to leave the rest of his chest bare. The bruises on his rib cage were starting to lose their dark purple color and fade to a less sickening yellow. Her gentle fingers slid across his middle as she finished. Rohan quaked at her touch.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Am I hurting you still?"

"No! No, no. Just...shivering, is all."

"Are you not warm enough?" she asked.

No, I'm plenty warm, he thought.

"I'm fine." he said.

Deirdre knew that this whole situation had the potential to be uncomfortable, so she decided to just play at normalcy. Otherwise, she didn't think either of them would be able to get through it.

"Did you and Angus get things...straightened out?" she asked, folding his shirt and putting back in the wardrobe for him.

Rohan laughed. "Yes, he straightened me out all right! Tell me, when did our Angus become so...astute?"

Deirdre paused.

"The day he sold the hut both of you shared." she said softly.

"He did _what?!"_

So much for avoiding big issues, thought Deirdre.

"About a year after you...left...he went through everything and sold the hut to a local villager. He brought everything that he kept up to the castle and started to live in a room near the royal guards' chambers. It was very...scary."

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously.

Deirdre sat down beside him. She took a deep breath and tried to explain.

"It's hard to describe." she said. "He was his normal self some days. He would torment Cathbad, steal from the kitchens, all the 'Angus' activities we know and love, and yet at other times he would become very quiet. He would not say a word to anyone. He just went and trained with the swordsmen, or sat around in his room. Ivar was very concerned about his mental well-being. It was almost as if he was two different people."

"How can he be two different people at once?"

She smiled sadly at him. "He was you."

Rohan raised a disbelieving brow. "Angus was me." he repeated.

Deirdre rolled her eyes. "Of course he wasn't you! He just...had to_become_ you. I think he felt that he had to take your place, in a way." she clarified. "Everyone looked up to Draganta. He was Kells' defender! I think Angus tried to carry on what you started. You are both so different. In fact now that I think about it, he lightened up a bit once you came back! I mean, once Donovan was in the picture."

He nodded. "That makes sense. He must have felt that with the treaty, a protectorate role wasn't needed for Kells anymore."

"You shouldn't have left, you know...we could have..."

"I know what I should have done, Deirdre," he interrupted. "But I was afraid to do it."

"Afraid to do what?"

Rohan turned his head from her. Knight of fire and great courage, indeed! He couldn't even look her in the eye!

"I should have told you. I should have told you that, that...Maeve. She was, well, is...my mother."

Deirdre turned his face to hers. "That doesn't change who _you_ are, Rohan." she said.

Rohan was baffled. "How can you be so sure? How can I be sure? It's her blood flowing through my veins."

Deirdre brought a finger to his lips and silenced him, then let her hand fall to rest on his warm, bare chest.

"But it is _your_ heart." she whispered. "_Your_good, kind, and noble heart! And this heart beating inside of you can filter out any malice or hate left in her blood."

Rohan brought her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her palm as a tear spilled down his cheek.

"I should have told you from the moment I met you that I loved you, Deirdre."

* * *

Note: I just had to give them this moment, we were all aching for it, were we not? I must pat myself on the back for some of the lines in this one, it was almost inspired! lol. As promised, I came back from class and saw six reviews, so I posted. I may be evil, but I still have a sense of honor! hahaha.

I see how it is now, the only way to get constant chapter-by-chapter reviews is to hold the story hostage! maniacal laugh Let's go for about 15 reviews, because I haven't really started on the next chapter yet. That ought to give me some time. And with the Holidays coming later this week, I should be able to crank a couple more out soon. Thank you Loyal Reviewers!


	26. Firsts

**Chapter Twenty-six: Firsts **

Deirdre's heart soared. They had finally gotten through the heated conflict to where they could continue on. But as Rohan's soft lips caressed her hand and the proclamation issued from his heart, she couldn't help but think that perhaps the fire had just begun.

Deep down, she knew that what she was about to do, what _they_ were about to do, is prohibited by law until a royal couple is betrothed. But Deirdre didn't care. She took all of those concerns and threw them out of her mind, locking the door behind them.

She reached for him and wiped away his tears. She did not pull back as he drew her closer to him, practically sitting in his lap on the bed. He caressed her face as if she was the most precious treasure in the world.

"Are you ever going to kiss me?" asked Deirdre.

The request barely left her mouth before Rohan captured her lips.

He poured all of his regrets, his fears, and his love into the kiss, communicating both his past grief and present joy to her. Deirdre's soft lips moving in tandem with his, kissing him back with the same ardor...the future never looked so promising.

Deirdre couldn't think. All she knew was his fire, and she was content to be consumed by it. She trailed her hands down his chest, feeling him quake at her simple touch. She smiled against his lips. Being able to make him react to such a simple touch made her feel powerful, so she continued her exploration. Roaming hands made their way from his muscle-toned arms to circle his neck. Rohan moaned as she gently played with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

The mystic knight of fire had always prided himself with his discipline. He practiced self-control in every aspect of study and training. But when air is added to dying embers, a flame emerges...renewed and ready to devour.

And devour he did.

He plundered her mouth like a dying man gasps desperately for air.

Overcome in her passion for him, Deirdre turned him and guided him down to lie beneath her. Straddled on top of him, she tried to reposition herself. But as she shifted, she accidental jabbed his wound with her knee...

"UGHHhhh!"

Rohan grabbed his side in pain.

"Oh, Rohan! I'm so sorry!"

"No," he gasped, "this is actually a good thing."

Deirdre raised a disbelieving brow. "A good thing?"

He smiled up at her. "In case you weren't paying attention, we were a bit...carried away."

"So?"

"Deirdre!"

She sighed. "You're right, I just...I just wanted...I wish..."

Rohan silenced her with a chaste kiss to her temple.

"I feel the same. But we need to do this right, without me defiling your honor!"

"Who needs honor?"

"Deirdre..."

"Yes, yes, fine. As you wish." She lay beside him now, hand still lightly fluttering across his bare chest.

"So are you going to propose, or aren't you?" she asked.

Rohan went stiff. She wanted him to propose? Now?!?

"There are more important things at the moment, Deirdre."

She glared at him. "What is more important than this?" she demanded.

He sighed. "By Dagda woman! There are others that were injured in the attack! I need to see to their health and..."

"Cathbad and Ivar are seeing to their health, and Garret and Lynette have gone to my father to explain things. What other excuses have you got for me?"

Rohan stared at her. "Is that what you think I am doing? Making excuses not to marry you?"

"That is exactly what I think! I LOVE you, Rohan. Do you love me?"

"Of course I do, but..."

"You want to marry me don't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then why the wait?!?!"

"For one thing, I have to face your father. I have a lot of explaining and apologizing to do still. I just need...time, Deirdre. Give me time."

"You've had excess amount of that!"

"Deirdre."

She just glared back at him. Oh...don't let him win! Stay strong...arg! Why can't I ever stay mad at him when I want to?

She stole a kiss and headed for the door. "Fine. Find me when you're ready. I don't plan on waiting forever!"

The door slammed.

For the first time in his life, Rohan had a significant other in his life. A real relationship with the opposite sex.

Then he pondered her abrupt exit.

"Did we just have our first fight?"

* * *

Note: Well, it seems that where I live, Murphy's Law reigns supreme! A little less that a week before the Christmas holidays, our area suffered the worst ICE storm in a century! Over half a million without power in our town, a water plant down nearby...it was horrible. And to top it all off with a cherry: the power outage fried my laptop! But on the bright side, our neighbors all came together to help clean up the millions tree limbs and branches and restore normalcy.

So if anyone out there was wondering whether or not I had dropped off the radar...I did. For about 3 weeks. But thankfully, power is restored, and the local library has internet access (even though the line to use it is out the door). So this chapter is obviously short, since the librarians were trying to kick me off as fast as they could!

I am hoping to fix my computer by the end of this week, so this little tale will be on hiatus until then. If you want to see some pretty amazing pictures, email me, and if I am up and running soon, they will knock your socks off!

Thank you for reviewing, and thank you for your patience!


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